


twin flames

by dabblingwithwords



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriages, Found Family, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Not everyone has jutsu's, PTSD, Pining, Politics, Romance, Self-Discovery, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village, Violence, War, a lot of stuff at the beginning involves children, because kids are treated as if they are adults, dark themes, happy endings, naruto and sasuke begin as smol beans, so if that's going to be triggering, then maybe read with caution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabblingwithwords/pseuds/dabblingwithwords
Summary: jinchuuriki are said to be made from gods. they're strong enough to hold demons, to level nations, to win wars. sasuke is the last of the uchiha, the only holder of the sharingan, and if naruto is meant to wage wars then sasuke is meant to end them.orthe song of Achilles AU where sasuke realizes he’ll fight a war for the loud mouthed blonde he met when they were 12
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou, Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto (one-sided), Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 153
Kudos: 285
Collections: THE naruto fic list, where flowers bloom





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> heey here i am starting another thing i'm so sorry lmao 
> 
> but this is heavily inspired by The Song of Achilles, although I will branch off to make it v different. also this is un-beta'd but i wanted to post it!! but i'll go through and check for grammar later. 
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> in this world not all ninja's have chakra or jutsu's. only specialized clans do, which is why bloodlines are so sacred.  
> there is only 1 jinchuuriki, not 9

Mikoto Uchiha is a smart woman.

Perhaps that’s why she had to wait so long to be wed. Most men didn’t like women who could talk back, would talk back, and had the knowledge to _back up_ their talking back.

Sasuke assumed this was his father’s one redeeming quality: he had fallen for a woman who is better than him.

She is well liked but keeps to her own schedule. She’s a good cook and has a sweet, uncomplicated appearance. Her father sold her for four goats and a lamb, and in her dowry the only thing to her name of worth is a beautiful katana that is said to have been carved from the stars.

Most mornings Sasuke helps his mother cook.

He loves her– more than his father, and more than his older brother– and so he wakes early to help her go through the chicken coops for fresh eggs, carry water from the well, boil the rice over the low flames. He enjoys this work, although he is a man and is not supposed to. But his mother doesn’t have any help, Fugaku doesn’t like servants in the house– and Sasuke suspects he keeps it like this so that Mikoto is always busy with housework and doesn’t have time to talk.

“There’s a new jinchuuriki,” Sasuke hears Fugaku whisper against Mikoto’s cheek one night, when he should be in bed and his parents believe he is, “it has a high price already. Minato should be grateful, he’s assured himself another immeasurable weapon.”

Mikoto doesn’t respond and Fugaku follows the dip of her waist over her robes. Sasuke slips back upstairs and blinks in the dark. He asks his mother about it the next day, when they sit on the beach of a vast bay.

“They’re a vessel,” Mikoto answers patiently, and she passes Sasuke a perfectly flat rock to skip across the water, “for a demon.”

Sasuke wrinkles his nose and flicks his wrist. The stone plops and doesn’t skip.

“I thought demons weren’t alive any longer,” he says because Itachi has always said it’s tall tales told in the hopes of securing peace and status amongst the villages.

Mikoto passes another stone but she grips Sasuke’s wrist lightly, stilling him from drifting far.

“They’re ancient,” she says, careful, “children of the Gods some say, that humans have tamed. A jinchuuriki is a special weapon. Everyone wants one.”

But Sasuke is young and he doesn’t care much about things that aren’t currently affecting him. So he shrugs and Mikoto lets him go and this stone doesn’t skip either.

The town’s people talk.

They’re always gossips and Ishi, a stout woman with wispy-peppered hair, is the worst. She stops Mikoto and gestures her and Sasuke inside her home, pours them tea, and doesn’t wait any longer.

“Is Lord Fugaku wishing to send Itachi?” she asks and sips at the hot water, thin lips pursed with wrinkles.

Sasuke stares at the cat that’s sitting on her windowsill. Its orange and fluffy, and its eyes stare unblinking into his own.

Sasuke remembers his father looking down at him one evening as Itachi studied his scrolls. Fugaku had gazed at him with a blank dispassion when Sasuke had talked about climbing the mountain peaks beyond the bay. It had been full of flowers, and he’d brought some home.

And Fugaku had looked at him, then at Itachi over his work, and had said to Sasuke, “that is how a son should be.”

Sasuke hadn’t brought flowers home again.

“I’m sure he is,” Mikoto says politely.

“Good,” Ishi nods, “good. It’s about time the Uchiha gets jinchuuriki. After everything we’ve been through.”

Mikoto smiles. To anyone else Sasuke assumes it would appear pleasant but he can read the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands grip her mug of tea.

“Yes,” Mikoto whispers but Ishi talks again like she hadn’t spoken.

“I heard the new vessel is quite lovely, even at such a young age,” Ishi leans forward and pitches her voice low, “hair spun like gold, they say. And eyes like gems. Men and women are already petitioning for its hand.”

It.

Mikoto is the only one who does not speak of the jinchuuriki this way. Ishi’s attention flicks to Sasuke, who has since looked away from the cat.

“I want to offer my daughter,” Ishi continues, “imagine how that would bless our name.”

Mikoto stays quiet.

It is a rarity in itself.

They leave having barely touched their drinks and Mikoto reaches for Sasuke’s hand as they walk.

“Greed,” Mikoto whispers, “will be the fall of us all.”

She grips his hand tight to draw his eyes up.

“Be kind, always,” she tells him, “it’s far more valuable.”

+

Itachi is the perfect son.

He is strong, and wise, and quiet. He does not help in the kitchen, he can read his father’s scrolls, and he is a fast and efficient warrior. His father trains him personally, early in the mornings, away from prying eyes. Sasuke knows his bloodline is secretive, knows that they’re powerful and well revered, but he doesn’t know much else.

All he knows is that his father and brother isolate themselves and once, when he had made his father angry by asking why he can’t train as well, Fugaku’s eyes had bled red and Sasuke’s head had felt like it was being split in two.

 _Sharingan_ , his mother had told him, _is a powerful jutsu. Not all Uchiha can possess it._

Fugaku believes Itachi will be stronger than him, and, when he comes of age, will take over as the clan head. Sasuke does not doubt this, but he does resent it.

He trains himself. He gets up, helps his mother, and then swims in the bay until his arms ache and he can no longer hold himself above water. He’s taken a waterlogged piece of driftwood and has fashioned it into a spear. No one is there to correct his footing but he knows when he is off.

Mikoto is the only one who ever sees him do this. She will bring him food and water, and heal the sunburns on his pale skin.

“Us Uchiha aren’t made for heat,” she tells him softly, fingers light over the worst of the red on Sasuke’s back and cheeks, “we burn too easily.”

It’s ironic, Sasuke thinks, since his clan was birthed from fire.

He’s at the beach one morning, the sun hidden by clouds, his limbs noodle-limp and his skin pruned from prolonged exposure to the water, when Itachi is standing over him.

“You look tired, little brother,” he says in his deep, droning drawl and Sasuke narrows his gaze at his brother’s expression.

“Are you and father done?” Sasuke asks.

Itachi doesn’t answer, just sits by Sasuke’s shoulder, uncaring of the sand on his nice robes. This surprises Sasuke, and he isn’t sure what to say. The galls squawk overhead, the timid waves crash and flick against Sasuke’s toes, but even this familiarity feels surreal with Itachi’s presence beside him.

“You’ve been training,” Itachi says.

Sasuke wants to argue in spite but instead he stays quiet.

“Would you like me to help?”

Sasuke glances over and for a moment he believes he’s dehydrated– hallucinating under the strain of the heat.

“What about father?” Sasuke asks.

Itachi doesn’t look at him, carefully avoiding Sasuke’s gaze. He’s staring out at the bay, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“I’ve surpassed him,” he says, like this is easy and not at all world shattering, “would you like to as well?”

This is the first real conversation Sasuke has ever had with Itachi.

And it’s about power.

Sasuke agrees. He is young, and influential, and is desperate for approval. Itachi begins right then and there. Days later Sasuke does _tiger_ and the heat from the fire in his throat doesn’t burn the way the sun does.

+

Fugaku wakes him before the sun has risen.

“Get up,” he says and leaves.

Sasuke gets up.

He’s tired, but alert because his father has never woken him before. He dresses and Mikoto waits for him by the door. He can see his father’s servants prepping horses, Itachi standing, dressed and already together, beside them. Mikoto kneels and fixes Sasuke’s collar.

“Your dress robes are already packed,” she tells him seriously, “and I’ve made you some breakfast. Eat quickly.”

He does, still too on edge to feel much of an appetite, but he will always do as his mother wishes.

“You’re traveling to Uzushiogakure,” she whispers as he picks at his eggs, “to swear our alliance for the Uchiha and Uzumaki clan.”

Sasuke is only twelve but he understands the significance of this. He remembers when he was younger and sitting in Ishi’s tearoom, listening to the old woman talk of prosperity and a jinchuuriki so lovely their eyes were like jewels.

“Itachi is being offered?” Sasuke asks.

Mikoto doesn’t answer.

“Eat your eggs,” she reminds softly, and then stands to fix Fugaku’s robe.

+

The Uchiha’s live outside of Konoha, surrounded by redwoods and oaks on the outskirts of Konohagakure. Isolated and self-sustaining, no one finds any need to travel elsewhere, and thankfully the trip to Uzushio is not long.

It takes three days for them to cross over the salt ridges and whirlpools, and one more to clear the small, mossy hills that surround the village. It’s small– smaller than the Uchiha's lands, but beautifully designed. The homes are carved from red stone and mud, good for combating heat and humidity, with delicate whirls carved into the structures.

The village is expecting its visitors, and a group of women greet them before they’ve even dismounted– offering peaches and water. There are pools of water spattered everywhere, and the sun is bright and reaches into every nook and valley. Uzushio is known for its beauty, but this is the first time that Sasuke has ever gazed upon it.

And beauty it is– in both people and design, and Sasuke has trouble hiding his wonderment. Where his own home is compact and minimal Uzushio's structures are vast and sprawling.

“Don’t drag your feet,” Fugaku snaps, cuffing his shoulder, “you’re representing our house. Act like it.”

A woman with dark skin and gold hair bends at the waist. She smiles and it’s bright.

“Would you like some?” she asks, her accent thick and different from Sasuke’s own. She’s holding a plate of peaches, perfectly sliced, and they catch the light and glisten their appeal. He wants to accept, but his father hasn’t granted him permission.

“No, thank you,” he says, careful to speak it gently.

She nods and backs away.

Their horses are taken to the stables and they are shown to their corridors, one room for Fugaku and another for Sasuke and Itachi. Everyone is bright and beautiful in their own way, and if _they_ impress Sasuke he has no idea the level that a jinchuuriki holds.

“It’s humid,” Fugaku complains when they’re alone, and he beckons Itachi forward, “come. We have matters to discuss.”

When Itachi doesn’t immediately follow Sasuke can tell Fugaku is displeased.

“Sasuke should attend as well,” Itachi says and Sasuke’s neck flushes under the attention of his father, “this is something he should know.”

Fugaku barely blinks.

“He’s too young,” he says, firm, “and it is you who is of importance. Now come.”

Sasuke, not for the first time, wonders why he is here. Itachi doesn’t spare him a look as he exits the room, and then it is just Sasuke, alone with the sticky floorboards and billowing, gauze curtains.

He thinks, if he listens, he can hear the sea beyond– the waves lapping its salty tongue against saltier shores.

It calls to him and he leaves his chamber without a moments deliberation. He doesn’t take anything with him– folds his robes and lays them on his bed, and begins to walk the winding cobblestone streets of Uzushio. Merchants call to him, fawn over his dark eyes and pale skin, at the Uchiha fan stitched onto the back and arms of his clothes.

“You’re not the eldest,” a woman says, looking him up and down thoughtfully, “but you’ll be a heartbreaker one day.”

Sasuke doesn’t care for this kind of conversation, or this level of engagement. With his father gone he accepts a peach that’s offered to him and makes his way over the hills to where he can hear the waves hitting the shore. There aren’t many people on the beach. Two boys are further down, fishing in the shallows, shirtless beneath the sun and young and bony in their appearance. Sasuke kicks off his traveler’s boots, feels the sand, hot and dry, and breathes in salt.

The breeze coming from the sea is cool, and this is a blessing on such a hot day. He can already feel the sweat drying on his back, and he pulls his shirt off to leave with his boots before wading into the waves.

The water is cool but has been warmed all day by the sun, and Sasuke chooses to forget about his father and brother as he lets the sea soak his trousers and make his hair wet. He loses himself in the motion of this until he blinks and the sun is lower and the two boys are no longer fishing. He thinks, maybe, he should return.

Well, he decides, if it is important Itachi will find him.

He floats easily, the salt in the water helping to lift him, and he closes his eyes and relishes in the quiet of Uzushio’s waves.

“Hey,” a voice says and Sasuke blinks open his eyes. The sky is red and pink, a perfect sunset, and he turns his head to the source of the new voice. “Can I float with you?”

There’s a boy his age staring at him.

The water is up to his waist, and the sun catches his blond hair and turns it nearly gold. He’s lean, still a child, with wide blue eyes that sparkle like jewels. His cheeks are scarred, but they don’t distract from his impish beauty. His skin is bronzed from the sun, not burnt like Sasuke’s is.

“Sure,” Sasuke says, “but stop talking.”

The boy’s eyes narrow.

“I’ll talk if I want,” he argues and flops onto his back.

The water kicks up and splashes over Sasuke’s face. He has to close his eyes so the salt won’t burn.

“Watch it, moron,” he hisses but the boy only laughs and flaps his hands against the surface.

“Your skin is all red,” he tells Sasuke and Sasuke knows without looking that he’s smiling, “you look like a lobster.”

“And you’re still talking,” Sasuke sighs.

“Well yeah,” the boy says, like Sasuke is slow, “why would you just wanna float in silence?”

“It’s peaceful.”

“Sounds boring.”

Sasuke cracks an eye and peeks over. The other boy’s head is turned toward him, the waves picking him up gently and lowering him back down. He either doesn’t care or is used to the water getting in his mouth and eyes, for he doesn’t blink it away like Sasuke’s prone to do.

“I dare you to be quiet,” Sasuke says.

Blue eyes narrow suspiciously.

“What do I get if I win?” the boy asks. Sasuke huffs.

“Me not killing you.”

The boy laughs, loud and boisterous.

“You couldn’t kill me,” he states confidently, “don't you know what I am?”

“You’re annoying,” Sasuke mutters.

The kid pokes his shoulder. Sasuke swats him away and stands instead, and the boy does the same. He’s about the same height as Sasuke, and he’s still grinning, that stupid wide smile that rivals the heat from the sun.

 _He is pretty_ , Sasuke thinks. As pretty if not more than the women who offered him peaches.

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto,” the boy says proudly. “And I bet I could beat you in a race.”

Sasuke doesn’t have any friends. He’s always played by himself, trained by himself, done everything in the comfort of solitude. And he’s never felt lacking because of it, never really desired to have someone to share those things with.

He looks over to the shore. It would feel good though, he thinks, to beat this loud kid at something.

“Fine,” he says.

He doesn’t win. But the boy is laughing and laughing, the water dripping from his hair and matting it gold and Sasuke is struck by the vibrancy of his existence.

“Again,” Sasuke says, breathless, and Naruto shrugs and says, easy, “sure.”

+

They race and swim until it’s dark and then they lay in the sand, skin wet and broken in goosebumps from the breeze off the sea. The stars are bright overhead, twinkling in the vast expanse of night, and Sasuke is used to spending all day training but he’s never been this exhausted before.

“You suck at swimming,” Naruto tells him, not out of breath at all, and Sasuke just throws sand at him and finds peace in the way the boy splutters.

“What clan are you with?” Naruto asks and Sasuke doesn’t mind him talking anymore.

“Uchiha,” he says, not looking at the other boy.

“Ooh,” Naruto hums, and pokes Sasuke’s bare shoulder again, “fancy.”

“Not really,” Sasuke says, swallows against the dryness in his throat. He’s never liked talking about his family, so he changes it. “You’re Uzumaki.”

“Yeah,” Naruto sighs, “my mother’s name.”

This isn’t normal. Usually the son takes their father’s name, as does their mother, as a sign of respect.

“Your father isn’t Uzumaki?” Sasuke asks.

“He wasn’t. He married my mother and changed his name so he could stay in our village.” Sasuke is surprised. This is uncommon, for a man to denounce his own name to take the burden of his wife’s.

“That is allowed?” he asks.

Naruto looks at him, puzzled and childishly naive.

“Of course,” Naruto says, “my mother was a jinchuuriki.”

Sasuke forgets that Uzushio treats their jinchuuriki like they’re precious. It would not be the same anywhere else. But Naruto says this with pride, and Sasuke is victim to his conviction.

“She passed the demon along,” Sasuke whispers, “I heard.”

“Have you heard who she gave it to?” Naruto asks, bold in his questions, and Sasuke isn’t used to such crass speech.

The Uchiha’s are selective in their words, passive in their meanings. Sasuke isn’t used to someone speaking so brazenly, especially about jinchuuriki.

“I have not,” Sasuke admits and this time he meets Naruto’s wicked gaze. He’s smiling like he has a secret.

“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow,” he says and turns his attention back to the stars but Sasuke keeps his eyes on his profile, transfixed, because even at night Naruto seems to shine, “for the ceremony.”

His tone is flat here, less alive, and Sasuke wonders on the cause.

He’s about to ask, about to question, when a woman’s voice breaks over the crash of the waves.

“Naruto! Get your ass up here now!”

Both boys sit up, Naruto decidedly a little more panicked. Stomping towards them over the dunes of sand is a woman with stark red hair and fire-blazoned eyes. She’s terrifying coming forwards, a streak of red in the dark, and Naruto’s on his feet in an instant, eyes wide.

“Ah, mom, it’s really–”

She’s close enough to whack him over the head with the sash around her waist.

“What did I say?” she hisses and Naruto pouts as he rubs his head.

“I dunno,” he grumbles and he’s blushing, embarrassed, but his mother doesn’t relent.

“I said to not leave your room, isn’t that what I said? I said that you shouldn’t go off alone, especially with new clans visiting. I said to keep to yourself, ya know. And you said, “yes mother dearest, light of my life–””

Naruto laughs.

“I did not!” he says but he’s smiling and so is she.

“You did, you did, I heard you myself!” she refutes and they’re so alike, these two, that Sasuke wonders if Mikoto and him appear like this as well.

Then the woman’s eyes are meeting his and Sasuke can’t help his own blush under her gaze.

“Who are you?” she asks, stepping between her son and Sasuke.

“Uchiha Sasuke,” he answers and remembers to bow, “ma’am.”

“Uchiha, huh?” she hums, and he keeps his eyes on her bare feet in fear that she’ll hit him as well, “the youngest?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can stand, Uchiha.”

He does.

“We were just swimming,” Naruto speaks up, pulling at his mother’s sleeve, “that’s it!”

“For six hours?” she asks, skeptical, and Sasuke blanches because he had only thought an hour or so had gone by, not six.

He realizes, with a sinking feeling, that he’s been gone so long and his father had never called. It doesn’t matter, then, where he is.

“You should get to your father,” the woman tells Sasuke, “I’ve heard he’s a strict man.”

Sasuke’s lips twitch. He doesn’t disagree– although he should.

“Can’t he eat with us?” Naruto asks and tugs again, “Please? Pl–”

“Enough,” his mother snaps, “I was worried sick. You could have been taken.”

“I’m safe here!” Naruto argues, “That’s what you’ve always said.”

“Do you understand that all these men are here to see you?” his mother asks, not missing a beat, “Jinchuuriki have been kidnapped and bartered for centuries. We’re going home.”

Naruto is whining, loud and impolite, and his mother grabs his wrist and drags him back up the dunes to where three guards stand, armor reflecting the white light of the moon.

“Bye Sasuke!” Naruto shouts back, “Maybe you’ll beat me one of these days!”

Sasuke can’t very well respond because he realizes that he’s just met Uzushio’s infamous jinchuuriki. And all Sasuke can think is: _he's loud_. 

+

Sasuke dresses in his nicest robes, the ones Mikoto packed.

They’re dark blue and bare the Uchiha crest. He walks beside Itachi, and though it is still early in the morning the sun is bright and smothers into the creases of his clothes. Fugaku grabs his wrist before they enter the great hall.

“Do not disgrace us,” he says. “Do not speak at all.”

Sasuke hears the great hall before he sees it, the sound of hundreds of voices banging against stonewalls, the clatter of feet and armor. The servants have thrown open the windows to try to dampen the sound; they have hung tapestries, wealth stitched into every detail, on the smooth walls. Sasuke has never seen so many warriors occupying one space before. Not men, he corrects himself. _Kages_.

The hall itself is wide and open, the ceiling made from glass that’s cut like crystal– not a speck of bird residue on its surface. The clan heads are kneeling already– boys alongside their fathers, and two young girls, with pink and black hair, beside them. Sasuke can recognize the purple of the Village in the Sound, the red of the Land of Wind.

Fugaku kneels first and Sasuke and Itachi follow.

Their knees will begin to ache soon on the stone floor, but no pillow is offered so Sasuke doesn’t complain. He is used to kneeling on hard surfaces, since his father doesn’t believe in tiny comforts like soft landings.

There is a wide table in the far middle of the room, and Sasuke recognizes the woman with red hair, a veil covering her face, as she sits next to the figure that Sasuke had swam with just the night before. Naruto is also covered, as is tradition. No one was supposed to see him, after all, and here Sasuke is, barely arrived and already breaking ceremony. It makes sense, why Naruto’s mother had been so angry.

A man with white hair sits beside Naruto, half his face covered but his right eye is visible. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, his robes wrinkled and old, but the air around him demands authority and respect. 

The Kage of Uzushio sits in the middle of the table, hands folded on the wood, face relaxed but alert as he surveys the room.

If any figure in this room deserves respect, it is Minato Uzumaki. When he stands, the room, which was already silent, goes still. The waves of the sea can be heard faintly, but it is the only noise that reminds them of the outside world.

The servants fade backwards, into the shadows. The room would be hot if not for the open windows. Minato addresses the room warmly.

“On behalf of Uzushio I thank you for your days of travel,” he speaks, and his voice carries effortlessly across the stones, wet with moisture from the day's mounting humidity, “welcome, Kages.”

Sweat beads along the back of Sasuke’s neck, gathering so swift and so sudden, for Uzushio is more humid than the Land of Fire, and the Uchiha robes are not fit for the temperament.

Sasuke glances to Itachi, who is kneeling tall, eyes focused ahead, and Sasuke remembers _do not disgrace us_ and tries to sit taller. Minato continues to offer his thanks, to each of the clan heads, to each other Kages, and Sasuke realizes just how many people have gathered, just how many people are eager to see the jinchuuriki of Uzushio. Naruto is the last one left, the others have been killed or disappeared, and so it is only this.

These men and women are gathered to offer their loyalty to Uzushio. One of them will be selected with the responsibility– the honor– of having the jinchuuriki choose them personally for protection. Itachi had told Sasuke as much, over their breakfast, quiet so Fugaku would not hear.

 _“It is my role,”_ Itachi had said, _“for the jinchuuriki to be promised to me. It is yours to represent our clan. We will both carry this privilege long after father has passed.”_

Sasuke will not fail in this.

He isn’t sure how he can; only needing to kneel and stay silent. He feels eyes on him but isn’t sure where they’re from. It could be the Kage of the Sound, pale and sickly. Sasuke has heard tales of his cunning wit and sharper tongue. Orochimaru traveled the furthest to be here, and Sasuke can feel the man’s gaze on him now. Or is the pink haired girl from the Haruno clan? A simple family that won’t be able to offer much– they are here for appearance only; or to maybe offer up their daughter as a way to carry on the jinchuuriki’s next successor.

Sasuke isn’t sure.

Minato opens the floor and each clan head stands. They address the table politely, bow to all, and speak to Minato only. They offer land, and animals, and silks. They offer instruments and deities and honor. No one addresses Naruto or his mother and Sasuke wonders, vaguely, if they even know Naruto’s age. If they know how blue his eyes are, framed by thick gold lashes. He is the opposite of them all, Sasuke thinks vehemently, bright and gold and vibrant, even hidden away under white silk. Fugaku stands next and Sasuke keeps his head respectfully bowed.

“Greetings, Uchiha,” Minato’s voice rings out and Sasuke is hyperaware of the faces turned their way, of all the eyes staring, staring, staring– “I see you’ve brought your sons with you.”

“My eldest has surpassed me years ago,” Fugaku agrees, “and we come today to offer our alliance with Uzushio. I would wish to offer Itachi to be honor bound to the jinchuuriki, to offer protection and solace to your great people for as long as our blood runs with fire. Our clan has been known for its power, for it’s strength in our eyes and our minds. We are–”

Sasuke is not surprised that his father has neglected to acknowledge him. He has no accomplishments, no feats. It’s all Itachi, and Sasuke shrinks into himself.

Minato inclines his head, an ending, and Fugaku kneels again, stiffly. Sasuke can sense his displeasure at being cut short, knows that his father likes to boast– likes to talk about the Uchiha proudly, but that is not what Minato has gathered everyone for.

He is to the point and precise, and Sasuke respects him for it.

The rest of the clans stand and introduce themselves, shorter than Fugaku’s words, and a girl with long dark hair stands and ducks shyly behind her father’s arm. She’s from Hyuuga, a clan so prestigious and sought after that Sasuke is surprised they’ve had to deal with this ceremony at all. The girl is introduced as Hinata– offered like Sasuke imagined the girls present would be– to help carry on the Uzumaki bloodline and secure them with an heir, another jinchuuriki.

It is a more valuable offer than anyone has made thus far.

Everyone has spoken– except for the man with white hair. He has a scar down his nose, and his left eye is carefully covered. He leans back in his seat, as though he wishes to disappear. Sasuke isn’t sure of his allegiance, or his position. But when Orochimaru had bowed he turned his gold eyes on the man in question.

“Now you, Hatake Kakashi,” the Kage of the sound speaks, “what is your offer?”

The man blinks lazily, and sighs like this is a great burden, instead of the reason for his being here.

“Nothing,” he says, simply, “I do not wish to posses the jinchuuriki. I have already made my deals with Uzushio– I need not pledge more.”

There is a ripple of unease in the hall, and the Raikage, a large man with shoulders as wide as a table, forgets himself in anger and stands.

“You dare make allegiances behind our backs?” he spits, “That’s unfair! You have the upper hand!”

Kakashi barely blinks.

“You question Minato’s abilities to choose what’s best for Uzushio?” he asks and the man blusters.

“This– you– this is not–!”

“What if I offer you a solution?” Kakashi continues, unperturbed, “Will you hear me out?”

The room is silent and it is answer enough.

“Then here it is. I believe that we should let the jinchuuriki choose.” Kakashi pauses, to allow for the murmurs of disbelief; jinchuuriki did not have a say in such things, even in Uzushio. “But they must choose now, at this very moment, so they will not be said to have taken council or instruction from myself. And.” He holds up a finger. “Before they choose, every man here must swear an oath: to uphold their choice, and to defend him and Uzushio from all who would harm them.”

There’s a heavy silence.

Only one person was supposed to swear this oath– not everyone. It seems almost unfair, to protect something that only one person receives.

Sasuke can’t help it: he looks up.

He can’t see Naruto’s face, can’t even see the outline of his eyes, but he is worried and needs reassurance.

When no one answers Kakashi raises his palms up.

“Well?” he asks.

Minato turns to him.

“You are bold and sly as ever, Kakashi,” he says but his tone is warm, “and I can’t help but agree. Naruto, how will you choose?”

The boy stands.

Sasuke wishes he could see his face. He turns his gaze away, his hands clenching on his knees.

None of these people will offer Naruto anything better than what he already has. He is in Uzushio, the only place where jinchuuriki are respected. He’s the Kage’s son; he’s revered and cared for. Once he leaves theses lands he will be treated like all jinchuuriki typically are: trash, disposable, weapons first and only. His best choice would be to pick the girls, who are only offered as a vehicle to carry a child, and Naruto will get to stay in his homeland.

Any of the men here will use Naruto as a weapon only. It makes Sasuke’s blood boil hotter than any fire he’s spit.

Itachi’s hand is on his wrist– a warning.

Sasuke forces himself to relax against it. There is a heavy silence, pregnant in it’s intensity, and for a moment Naruto seems to waver, unsure. His mother’s hand taps his wrist– a reminder or reassurance, Sasuke can’t tell, but Itachi had done the same for him and he hopes it stables Naruto as much.

The decision here will set the tide for all things. It will ally the nations, depending on whom Naruto chooses.

“Hyuuga,” Naruto says.

There is unrest, again, but no one speaks against the decision. The only people pleased are the Hyuuga’s, and they barely show it. The girl is bright red, younger than anyone else in the room. She will not be able to bare children for years and perhaps Naruto had known this– had used this to decide. Many things could happen in year’s time. It was his safest option, and Sasuke feels strange for it.

A goat is brought in, its throat slit between all the men– an offering, an oath in blood, and finally they are allowed to stand and will move into another hall for the feast. Sasuke’s knees ache, his muscles stiff. The men move around him in tightly wound aggression. The last jinchuuriki will remain in the Hyuuga’s protection, promised an heir and the Hyuuga girl and their lands inside Konohagakure. Sasuke can feel the unrest, the displeasure, but this is how trade works.

All of these men have sworn, on blood and goat and stone, to protect Naruto until they die. If anything threatens that, it will be a call to war.

+

Sasuke doesn’t see Naruto again.

After the ceremony Fugaku gathers their things, packs their horses, and propels them home. He is angry, Sasuke can tell, for if they had been able to offer enough the jinchuuriki would have brought them great fortune and favor. Alas, their name is slightly scuffed, befuddled, and the journey back home is laborious.

+

Fugaku locks himself into his study for three days and three nights.

Mikoto doesn’t enter, just leaves him untouched food outside of his door. If his father were any other man, Sasuke would think he was sulking.

Mikoto still cooks, and Sasuke still joins her, but he feels a little ridiculous now that Itachi is training him. He knows he shouldn’t be in the kitchen, but his father isn’t around to see so he lingers each morning at dawn.

“Tell me about Uzushio,” Mikoto says the first morning of their return, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“It is, mother,” Itachi says from where he’s bent over one of his scrolls, “you would have enjoyed the markets.”

“I wish to go,” Mikoto, tells them and she winks at Sasuke like this is a secret. Maybe it’s this, this lighthearted personal gesture, which has Sasuke opening his mouth.

“I met the jinchuuriki,” Sasuke blurts and Mikoto stills where she’s cooking.

Itachi too, looks up from the words on the page.

“You mean you saw him?” Mikoto tries but there is no firmness in her tone.

“No, we spent the afternoon together,” Sasuke continues, and Itachi’s gaze is unfathomable, “for six hours.”

Mikoto’s eyebrows rise at the specificity.

“How–were you allowed?” Mikoto asks carefully. “I’ve heard jinchuuriki aren’t often allowed outside.”

“He was,” Sasuke says.

“It,” Itachi corrects smoothly, attention drawn once more to his scroll, “don’t complicate matters for yourself by believing the jinchuuriki is anything more than a weapon.”

“Itachi,” Mikoto chastises, eyes hard, “jinchuuriki–”

“Watch what you say, mother,” Itachi stands, the paper rolled under his arm, “and remember your place.”

He leaves swiftly and Mikoto reverts her attention to her hands. Sasuke can’t help but feel like he’s made a mistake, somehow, and so he doesn’t bring up Naruto again.

+

Two years pass swiftly.

Sasuke hears news that the jinchuuriki grows more beautiful everyday– that suitors from all over still travel for weeks, for months, to offer gifts in hope for a trade. It barely matters to some that Naruto is a demon vessel– for beauty like that is rare and wars have been fought for less.

Sasuke hears the Hyuuga girl has grown as well, not yet a woman, but she’s closer each month. Sasuke doesn’t care much about the politics surrounding this. The only point for a jinchuuriki is to be used in a war. They haven’t seen violence since Sasuke was five, and it was over when he turned eight.

Itachi still trains him. Sasuke isn’t sure of his level, of his progression, for Itachi always feels immovable and unreachable.

Ishi visits every Tuesday morning with dumplings and a limp and a picture of her granddaughter.

Itachi never meets with her.

So it’s Sasuke job to entertain, and he sits patiently with her in their overgrown garden and listens to Ishi talk.

“You’re a handsome man, Sasuke,” she says, over and over, “you’ll make all the women swoon.”

“Not sure about that, Ishi,” Sasuke tells her gently.

“Oh trust me,” she continues, “trust me.”

He humors her, always, and pours her more tea.

+

It is on a Wednesday morning, the first beginnings of March hanging chilled in the air, when Itachi stands and touches a cut on his cheek.

He looks at Sasuke and, for the first time, smiles.

+

Now that he is fourteen he is expected to begin to look for a wife.

Itachi has been exempt, it seems, for he’s taken to missions outside of the Uchiha compound in order of Konoha. He is high in the ranks, and barely has time to come home anymore, much less begin a family. So Sasuke is deemed fit to secure their line, continue on their heritage, and all Sasuke can think is: _was this how Naruto felt?_ The other boy is the only example Sasuke has to draw from and he finds he reflects on it often.

Naruto was only twelve when he had to make his decision– and he was lucky for that, being a jinchuuriki– Sasuke has say, his future wife does not. He still hears news of Naruto, of the last remaining jinchuuriki. There was a problem last month in Uzushio, but the details remain vague and embellished under the dim of gold lanterns and too much ale.

Sasuke isn’t sure the degree, or the case, or the situation, but he had heard Itachi whisper it to their father one night, when the wind was whipping strong and cold and Mikoto had fallen sick in the room down the hall.

Her coughs covered most of the conversation, and Sasuke was only able to catch pieces. It’s important, he knows, but he isn’t respected enough by Fugaku to be privy to Konoha and Uzushio politics.

Instead, he goes to his mother.

She’s pale, and sticky, and Sasuke presses a damp cloth against her forehead to try and combat the fever. She reaches up and takes his hand.

“You’ll be married before Itachi,” she tells him, still sounding rattled, “how does this make you feel?”

Sasuke wants to say it makes him uneasy. It makes his stomach clench. He’s never had desire for romantic relationships with women, or anyone, for that matter. But he’s aware enough of himself in puberty, in hormones, to know what kind of people his dreams hold and what has his attraction fizzling.

He swallows around a tight throat and does not dare tell her this.

“Do you have someone in mind?” he asks instead.

Mikoto’s eyes shimmer.

“She’s lovely,” his mother assures, like Sasuke should care about this, “pink hair. Green eyes, she’s a fine medic. Her family is kind, and in a years time they’ve agreed to a marriage.”

Pink hair.

Sasuke remembers a young girl kneeling on stone with hair the color of cherry blossoms. _Haruno_.

Sasuke looks beyond his mother at the wall. There’s a moth in the corner, hitting against the wood. Mikoto grips his hand tight and he turns back to her. There’s something in her expression, an underlying sadness that has Sasuke feeling on edge.

“You’ll be happy,” Mikoto whispers, “you’ll be happy.”

He doesn’t know whom she’s trying to convince.

+

Mikoto dies early that spring.

She had been sick for a while, but no one had noticed.

They cremate her without ritual, and bury her under the crooked oak tree that hangs over the Uchiha shrine. Sasuke lights a candle for her, and tends to it until the sun comes up and the wind blows it out and it’s on this day that Sasuke awakens his Sharingan.

+

Winter comes like a lion.

Sasuke is fourteen, and he’s taken to helping Itachi maintain their estate, their trade, and their communications with the Land of Fire. Fugaku doesn’t speak, anymore. But it’s for the best, Sasuke thinks, because now he is free to roam the halls of his home and not feel like a stranger.

The snow packs high like powdered sugar and Sasuke stands in the midst of it, sweat cooling dry on his skin, as he watches the sky open up and decorate the world in white. Kusanagi, his mother’s katana, is tight in his hand. It is lighter, now that he is older.

+

“Sasuke.”

It is Itachi’s voice. It wakens him from dreams of gold and sea and salt.

“Brother?” he whispers.

It smells strange, in his room. Like metal, like copper. He can’t see Itachi’s features, shrouded in the dark like he is. Something smells foul, and Sasuke is stuck on it.

“I am leaving,” Itachi tells him, “I have left you coins and a map. Don’t tell anyone of your real name.”

An awareness floods through Sasuke like ice and he reaches out, grabs hold of Itachi’s arm. It is hot against his hand, with sweat and something wet.

“What’s going on?” Sasuke asks, tries to speak but he is afraid, so afraid he can barely move.

Itachi’s hand rests gently on his forehead, like their mother’s did when she would check for fever.

“People are after the jinchuuriki,” his brother tells him, grave.

Sasuke’s heart is pounding in his chest and this smell, this clogging, horrible smell, is too strong–

“Sleep, little brother,” Itachi says, gentle, as his eyes swirl and Sasuke drifts.

+

There is nothing left of the Uchiha’s but red.

Red, and that smell.

That awful, copper smell.

+

He rips the Uchiha fan from his shirt. If he is traveling it is best to be unknown. He packs light. There is not much for him to take.

+

Ishi is sliced from crown to neck.

Her body is bent and cracked over her favorite mug. She is the only one that Sasuke cries for. He cremates the rest and leaves his father in his study, where he belongs.

+

Winter is still heavy in its weight, and there are no leaves left on the trees.

If Sasuke doesn’t think about anything it almost feels normal. He tells himself, under the bows of the large oak trees that he will never cry again, for tears are wasteful things, and they do not bring back the dead.

+

Konoha Nin find him two days into his departure.

They had traveled as soon as they had caught wind of the Uchiha massacre (because that’s what it is– a massacre), and Sasuke had just managed to pull himself to the edge of the Land of Fire when they find him. He assumes the alliance does hold some strength, even if he feels nothing but the numb buzzing underneath his skin when they approach him.

“Uchiha?” they ask.

Sasuke has a choice. He is not in the remains of his compound– he cannot be faulted for its demise. Itachi has fled, left, and he needs to find him. If he goes with Konoha he will be bound further.

His mother always told him to see the world. It’s probably not the way she meant but–

Sasuke is tired.

And he has nothing.

“No,” he says, “just passing through.”

They study him, unconvinced, and Sasuke can’t blame them. He matches the physical descriptions of the Uchiha: pale, dark hair, dark eyes. One of the ninja steps forward. He has white hair and half his face is covered. He is completely and unfortunately familiar.

Sasuke grips the hilt of Kusanagi and tries to keep his breathing even. If it speeds up this man will tell.

“Passing through,” Kakashi mulls, and his only visible eye narrows in veiled amusement. “You wouldn’t mind coming with me, would you?”

Sasuke wants to argue. He wants to say no, again, and leave. But even if he can outrun these six Nin it would brand him a suspect for the deaths of his kin. A woman steps forward.

“Hatake, he should go to Konoha. Not–”

“It’s fine, Anko. We go way back, don’t we?” Kakashi asks, and he’s addressing Sasuke now.

Sasuke wants to snap. Wants to tell him to hold his tongue– that they only saw each other, once, two years ago, when Sasuke was weak and a child with aching knees. He likes to think that he’s grown since then, he likes to think he’s become smarter, stronger, more adept. He has the Sharingan now– he has jutsu’s from Itachi and the old scrolls his father kept hidden in his study. They’re in the pack on his back now, and he itches to unwrap them.

But–

His clan was slaughtered.

He isn’t sure that’s sunk in yet. He’s scared it will– if he stops moving.

Even now, in front of these Nin, his heart rate has elevated. He’s sure his ribcage is expanding with his breathing; with the desperate force of anxiety he feels bubbling in his chest. He isn’t sure anyone before him notices. But then Kakashi’s eye is winking and he reaches out and takes Sasuke non-to-gently by the shoulder.

“I got him,” he tells the rest of the squadron, “you can disband.”

“But Captain–”

“That wasn’t a question, Anko.”

The woman nods and in a blur they’ve disbanded, all besides Kakashi Hatake and Sasuke.

“You lived,” Kakashi says, looking him carelessly up and down, “I was wondering.”

“Can I go?” Sasuke snaps and Kakashi is unruffled.

“Orphans can’t just wander about,” the other man says and Sasuke has to blink, and swallow, and try to remember the functionality of his lungs because he hadn’t even thought the word to himself.

Orphan.

Except he’s not, not really, because Itachi might still be out there, Itachi, who smelled like copper and rot in the dark. Sasuke isn’t sure what to make of his brother, or where he fled. He does not correct the white haired man. If he did it'd be giving away too much. So this is who he is now: nameless and orphan.

“No crest on your clothing either,” Kakashi says, “were you hoping to disappear?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer.

He hopes, faintly, that if he gives the man nothing he will be permitted to leave. Kakashi doesn’t leave. Instead he sighs, and shrugs, and takes a small notebook from the pocket in his trousers.

“You know,” he says, like this day has been too hard on him, and Sasuke wonders, bitterly, if his entire family had been killed in a night as well or if finding a lone boy in the woods is worse for him, “you’re in Land of Fire now. You’re our responsibility.”

“I’m not going to sit behind walls,” Sasuke grits out, his hands aching to hold Kusanagi.

“No,” Kakashi says easily, “of course not. But lets make a deal.”

Sasuke remains silent and Kakashi writes something in his small book before putting it away.

“I know who you are,” he continues, “people will recognize you, with or without the Uchiha fan. In Konoha, at least.”

“So you’re blackmailing me. This is–”

“Well, let me finish,” Kakashi sighs and Sasuke grinds his jaw so hard his teeth protest, “in Uzushio you could start over. Train under the other displaced boys to be a soldier for them. Or wander, and eventually I will have to call upon you for the oath you swore when you were twelve.”

Kakashi cocks his head.

“I know which one I’d pick,” he says, “and then you’ll be by the sea.”

Sasuke’s chest is tight. There’s a part of him, an angry, childlike part, that wants to breathe fire in Kakashi’s face and leave out of spite. He doesn’t want to go to Konoha, with its vast streets and skewed politics and so many people. He doesn’t know what the world holds, and he has no money to see it right. And it is as Kakashi has said: he will be called upon again one day.

But, the way Kakashi had spoken:

“You talk like a war is blooming,” Sasuke says, eyes narrowed, “you talk as if we will fight soon.”

Again, Kakashi’s face betrays nothing. But his gaze sharpens– as quick and steel bright as a kunai.

“Yes,” he agrees, “there will always be people who want the jinchuuriki.”

 _Naruto_.

Sasuke remembers him, though its been years and he can’t recall the exact shape of the other boy’s face. Sasuke hasn’t had any friends in his life, hasn’t played or swam with anyone before or since Naruto. He thinks that’s why the boy has stuck with him in his mind all these years. He wonders what he looks like now.

“Is Naruto in Uzushio?” Sasuke asks, can’t help it, “or Konoha?”

He thinks, by the way Kakashi’s mask pulls, that the other man is smiling.

“Uzushio,” Kakashi says.

Sasuke breaks their eye contact to look up at the wide oak trees instead. 

“Why do you suspect a war?” Sasuke asks. Kakashi sighs and begins to turn away. 

“There are many reasons,” he says, “but I can’t divulge this information to a rouge.”

Sasuke glares. Kakashi knows he’s won.

“I’ll come with you,” Sasuke tells him, “but you keep my namesake hidden.”

Kakashi cocks his head. This seems to surprise him the most.

“Uchiha is a powerful name,” Kakashi says, “why forsake it?”

Sasuke thinks of all the blood. He thinks of how his people were painted in its red. He thinks of Ishi, gutted from head to back. He thinks of his father’s cold eyes, looking the same in death.

But mostly he thinks of his mother.

Of her smile, of her soft words, of her teaching him to skep stones across the bay. How she had always looked beyond the water, had always been searching when she would sigh, “ _I wish to see Uzushio again_ ”. He has her sword on his back– the last piece of her.

He used to have pride in the Uchiha name. He used to carry its symbol like a trophy. But it is a name that his father was also proud of, a name that isolated and ended in bloodshed. A name that told him “ _do not disgrace us_ ”. A name that left his mother to burn and die alone, while his father traveled to Konohagakure to get away from the smell. He wants to be someone beyond it, now. He wants to know the truth of the massacre, wants to know if his brother is still alive.

He will go to Uzushio for his mother, if nothing else. He will get to know Kakashi Hatake for information, and nothing else.

“Does it matter?” Sasuke asks.

The mask pulls, and now Sasuke can see the smile.

+

They travel on foot, which is slower than horseback, but Kakashi is blessedly quiet, and at nights by the light of their fires he reads his small book and writes in his smaller notebook.

Sasuke is thankful for this, for he has no energy to spare by wasting words that will lead him nowhere. The oak trees begin to thin into slopping hills, and then Sasuke can smell the salt in the air, hear the gull’s overhead instead of owls. The grass now holds bits of sand, and Sasuke feels an ache so deep in his bones that he thinks it will be hard to breathe.

His mother would’ve loved Uzushio.

It’s the only thought in his mind when the hills thin to sand dunes and they’re walking along the thick strip of beach. The sun is low in the sky, their shadows long, but Sasuke’s attention is on the waves and how hard they hit the shore. He hasn’t swam since before Mikoto passed, didn’t have time when training with Itachi.

He finds he longs for the salt water to dry his skin, to carry him up, to let him float away and exist in nothing but the waves. His mother loved stories of mermaids and sirens, of sea nymphs and sailing. He wonders if there’s any truth to those tales or if they were born from dehydration and mania.

“It is beautiful,” Kakashi speaks for the second time in four days and Sasuke barely registers his words over his attention on the sea, “don’t you agree?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer.

They walk until nightfall and then set up a fire behind a hill, so the wind can’t blow sand and that they’re protected from the tide. It’s colder in Uzushio when the sun sets, and winter is only just beginning to recede. The days are warmer here though, and Sasuke is grateful for those small differences. If it was the same as it was back home he isn’t sure he’d ever get away from himself.

“Have you awoken your Sharingan?” Kakashi asks, voice carrying well over the cracking of the fire and the beat of the waves and Sasuke tenses at the sheer audacity of the question.

It’s a personal one. The Uchiha’s _dōjutsu kekkei genkai_ is not discussed, even in their own families. Not every Uchiha has awoken their Sharingan, and some never did. It’s considered invasive, to ask after it, because the Sharingan comes with deep bone loses and reminding the user of them is often seen as tasteless.

It is why the Sharingan is known as the _Kokoro o utsusu hitomi_ (eye that reflects the heart).

But Kakashi Hatake is tasteless, Sasuke thinks, because he’s smart and must know what asking this implies.

“Does it matter?” Sasuke repeats, as he always does, with any question Kakashi has had in the past few days, because he doesn’t want to share himself in any way with anyone.

“This time it does,” Kakashi says easily, “you’re more valuable as a soldier if you have.”

The waves hit the shore and the water breaks the sand.

“Then I haven’t,” Sasuke says and Kakashi, blessedly, doesn’t push.

+

It is one more day of travel and then Sasuke can see the tips of Uzushio.

The buildings are still beautiful; many are elevated above the ground, so if it floods the homes are safe. It has grown over the two years, and the structures still look old and worn and ancient. The sun is red and reflects off the stones– reflects off the whirlpools of clear water that surround the village.

People balance on stilts by the isolated pools of water, many fish by the ocean and streams that creep along the dunes.

Kakashi keeps the pace two feet before Sasuke.

He understands. He is assuming Uzushio Nin will approach them and that they will take him away and show him his rooms and then begin the process of their training. If there is a war close on the horizon he doesn’t think they’ll waste much time. He won’t show them anything. He will begin as a novice, with no talent, and no skill. And then, maybe, they will release him, and he will officially be free of anything.

He isn’t expecting the Konoha Nin he sees in the markets. It makes him on edge, makes him feel antsy, but he supposes this isn’t something that should surprise him. Uzushio and Konoha are still allied, and with the rumors of a war this sight should be relieving. No one approaches him as they did when he was here two years ago. No one really notices him, or takes the care too. There are no peaches offered to him, no kind smiles. Uzushio streets are baked in the sunset, in the colors of the sun, and the sea can still be seen over the tips of the dune’s– an orange mirror on the horizon.

“So,” Kakashi drawls, “what name do you want?”

Sasuke hesitates, just a moment, as his feet move unconsciously over the cobblestones. It’s the last dregs of December yet many of the people around them wear sandals and short sleeves. Sasuke supposes it only feels like a chill evening here, at least while the sun is still visible in the sky.

It would limit himself and his own possibilities to keep Uchiha. If he keeps _Sasuke_ as well people might grow suspicious. Then again not many know him, and his father certainly didn’t broadcast his youngest son. Sasuke isn’t sure his father even introduced him all those years ago to the court.

“I’ll keep Sasuke,” he tells Kakashi, and the older man doesn’t say anything to that. It would not be uncommon for an orphan to no longer keep the name of his father. Having only a first name will be enough.

“Well then,” Kakashi hums noncommittally, “that’s easy.”

They enter a wide home on one of the hills. It’s the most grand by far, and Sasuke can see the guards posted around, the white silk of curtains that flutter form the balconies above. It’s open and lovely, and Sasuke can’t help his nerves upon realizing this has to be the home (or a side home) to Kushina and Minato Uzumaki. Kakashi leads them through a door that sinks below ground. Above them, Sasuke can hear the patter of feet, the muffled voices of laughter. There sounds like a meal is being had over their heads and Sasuke can’t hide his hunger from himself.

A woman is standing at the end of the hallway, her hair bright and glasses reflecting the burning flames of the candles mounted on the walls. Her eyes narrow as she takes Sasuke in and then she’s looking at Kakashi with her lip jutted out.

“You’re a day late,” she snaps, “we were expecting you this time yesterday.”

“Apologies, Karin,” Kakashi pacifies gently and familiarly, “there was a cat trapped in the dunes out by–”

“I don’t have time for your fake stories,” she interrupts sternly and Sasuke’s surprised Kakashi is permitting her to speak to him like this. She can’t be a year or two older than Sasuke himself. And then her attention is on him. “You. Orphan. What’s your name?”

Sasuke bristles.

He almost says _does it matter?_ but he has a feeling if he begins he’ll be arguing with her in this cool corridor for hours.

“Sasuke,” he says and relief washes through him when no sign of recognition crosses her features. This might be the only time that Sasuke is grateful for his father’s aversion. At least she doesn’t ask after his family name.

“Sasuke,” she repeats, “follow me. You–” she snaps under Kakashi’s nose– “Lord Minato wants to see you. Because you’re so late.”

“Of course,” Kakashi smiles and nods at them both, “Karin, Sasuke, have a wonderful night.”

He turns heel and walks silently back the way they’d come. Sasuke nearly follows him on impulse but then he’s turning and is met with Karin’s stare. She’s closer than before, and she wrinkles her nose at him.

“You stink,” she says, “I’ll show you to the baths and your room. You’re sharing with the boys. Don’t go into the kitchens at night. Don’t steal, or you’ll be prosecuted or exiled. And, whatever you do,” she pokes a long nail into his chest, “do not go into the West Halls. That’s where the jinchuuriki lives. You’ll lose your head if you snoop around there.”

Sasuke nods and wills this conversation to be over. Karin looks over his shoulder.

“Is that all you’ve brought? A small pack and a katana?”

“Yes,” he says, “I will not part with it.”

She laughs, loud and abrupt.

“You don’t really get a say,” she sniffs, “most people don’t keep their weapons.”

“Most people don’t know how to use them,” he retorts, irritated, “I will not part with mine.”

“Listen, _orphan_ ,” Karin hisses and steps even more into his space, “you don’t get to choose. You belong to Lord Minato now. Think of it this way: your cooperation buys you a bed, food, and training. What more do you want?”

He wants to say freedom.

He wants to say anything else beyond the life of war.

He could’ve had it, but for some reason he felt like he needed to come here. For his late mother, for the sea, for gold hair and blue eyes– he hopes, wonders, to see what will become of him if he can see Naruto again. He has nothing else, and he isn’t sure why the other boy holds an answer, but something in him aches and if he picks at it he’s terrified his nails will come away bloody with the loss inside of him.

“N– the jinchuuriki,” Sasuke begins, “is he–”

“You’re not here for him are you?” Karin interrupts, it’s a common thing for her, Sasuke realizes, “I’m instructed to skin you, if you are.”

“No,” Sasuke says, “just curious.”

Karin snorts but begins to lead Sasuke to his new rooms.

“You and the entire nation.”

+

There are at least twenty beds in one room.

Sasuke is lucky that there is one empty in the far corner. He doesn’t think there are any female orphans here. If there are, they’re in another room. It’s empty, and Karin tells him it’s because most are at dinner now. Bed will be soon, but if he hurries, he’ll have the baths to himself.

“There’s a chest of clothes beneath your bed,” she says, “if you really want to keep your katana hide it there. The pack you’ll have to give to me, or they’ll get suspicious.”

He doesn’t argue this, and hands it over to her.

“You’re time is mostly your own,” Karin says as Sasuke pulls the trunk from under the cot, “the mornings you eat. Then you train until mid-day. That’s it.”

Just training, Sasuke thinks. He isn’t surprised, but he’ll need to be careful not to show his Sharingan. It’ll destroy everything, if he does.

“All right,” he says.

“You’re kinda cute,” Karin muses, unprompted, and Sasuke stills where he’s kneeling, suddenly immensely uncomfortable.

 _You’ll make the women swoon_ , Ishi had told him. He hates the thought of her being right. He almost tells her he has a wife, somewhere, waiting for him. He almost tells her that women do nothing for him, that he prefers–

He doesn’t.

He keeps his mouth shut and she shrugs and begins to leave.

“See you around, orphan!”

Then he’s alone.

He goes to the baths and scrubs a weeks’ worth of dirt from his skin. His hair feels like it’s mostly grease, and while he wishes he could linger in the wonderful feeling of solitude and warm water, he does not. Instead he gets to his cot, settles in, just as all the boys clamber in. They’re loud, and boisterous, and approach him in bursts of curiosity.

“You’re almost as pale as I am,” a boy with jagged teeth and white hair tells him. He falls onto the cot beside Sasuke, turning to look at him with a large grin.

Sasuke isn’t sure how to talk to him. The other boy doesn’t seem to mind, he turns on his side and regards Sasuke carefully.

“I’m Suigetsu,” he says. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Sasuke says after an uncomfortable silence.

“Usually people introduce themselves now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Want me to make up a name for you? How about dick–”

“Sasuke,” Sasuke sighs and rolls onto his back, “and stop talking to me.”

“You have great manners,” Suigetsu tells him.

“I try,” Sasuke retorts and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to make it any clearer to this boy that he doesn’t want to speak.

“Have you seen any of the girls here?” Suigetsu presses and Sasuke tries to count backwards from ten. “They’re pretty easy, you know.”

“What’s the point of this conversation?” Sasuke snaps.

To his surprise, Suigetsu laughs.

“You mean you don’t wanna get your dick sucked?” he asks and Sasuke can feel a headache coming on. “Most boys here do.”

“Say one more word and I’m ripping your tongue out,” Sasuke snaps and turns to face the wall.

Suigetsu laughs again but he doesn’t say anything else.

+

Sasuke’s dreams smell like copper and are stained red.

He wakes and the world is still dark. Someone is snoring in the dark. Sasuke can feel his heart pounding against his ribs. His skin is chilled with sweat drying from the breeze of the open windows. He rolls out of bed and quietly makes his way into the dark corridor. The place is silent now– no laughter or voices can be heard from the floorboards. Sasuke is suddenly, earnestly, desperate to be near the sea.

He follows the darkness back the way Kakashi had led and the door opens easily. There are guards posted near the balconies, and Sasuke is sure there are some near the sides of the home as well. He’s not sure if he should risk this. But the night air is already helping immensely, and he doesn’t want to go back to the room where the copper could be. He closes the door but still wander along the halls, upstairs that opens into a large dining hall.

It’s empty, of course it is, but it still carries the lingering traces of fish and bread from dinner. He moves further, struck with the desire to not be stagnant, and he follows halls and stairs until he’s walked out onto a thin strip of a balcony. It overlooks the ocean, and the moon bounces off the waves in bright silver swatches.

He sits down on cool stones until the sky begins to turn pink and he leaves before the bell for breakfast rings.

+

The dining hall is loud in the mornings.

Despite everyone having just woken from slumber they’re alert and talkative. Sasuke sits with Suigetsu, despite not having the energy to, but thankfully there’s another man, large and broad, who takes most of Suigetsu’s chatter. His name is Juugo, Sasuke learns, and he’s quiet and calm, and not at all grating on Sasuke’s tender nerves.

Breakfast is simple: bread and peaches and figs, but Sasuke eats it gratefully and keeps to himself.

+

The training is easy.

Boring.

Sasuke is beyond restless, but he tries to hold himself back as best he can. Kakashi watches from the balconies, Minato Uzumaki standing beside him. Sasuke doesn’t look their way.

He just uses his non dominant hand to wield the weapons they hand him, focuses on how badly the sun burns his skin, focuses on being uncomfortable, and he hopes that translates into his movements, into his mannerisms. Itachi had trained him for over a year, and he’s beyond this.

After two hours he dares to look back up at the balcony. Kakashi and Minato are gone.

“New kid! Pay attention!” his instructor snaps and Sasuke goes back to pretending he doesn’t know this like the back of his hand.

+

The day’s lull into weeks, and Sasuke still hasn’t seen Naruto.

He thinks he sees blond flashes from the corner of his eye, thinks he can hear Naruto’s laugh, like that day in the sea. But he turns and it’s a shadow, he turns and it’s another boy, and every week he feels the disappointment turn into a restless ache under his skin. He’s bored, endlessly, and he aches to see the ocean, to have his own agency, and each day he regrets following Kakashi goddamn Hatake to Uzushio.

When he feels like this, when he wakes with nightmares of copper and blood, he sneaks away to sit on the strip of balcony and reminds himself that his mother had wanted to come here one more time, and that she had never gotten the chance.

+

Sasuke has been in Uzushio one month.

One month, and it’s becoming routine. Suigetsu is loud, and jerks off late at night. Juugo is quiet and calm, and he does not participate in the training. Karin is loud, and she finds excuses to speak to Sasuke when they’ve spilled out onto the grounds and the beach in the late afternoons.

It’s on one of these afternoons that Sasuke hears it for the first time.

He stole a peach with Suigetsu from the kitchens, but the white haired boy had disappeared over an hour ago, leaving Sasuke to himself as he walks the sloping hills beyond Uzushio’s markets. The sun is high in the air; the stirrings of spring are upon them. The nights are no longer chilling, and the trees surrounding them have begun to bloom with olives and dogwoods– different foliage than Konoha, but beautiful nonetheless.

It’s the noise that draws his attention. He would’ve thought it an animal, a squirrel, or a fox, but he hasn’t seen them reside in the seaside sprawl of Uzushio. So he follows it, for lack of anything else to do, and the sound leads him up the side of a sandy cliff onto to a clearing, tucked away behind a circle of water oak trees. The waves hits the beach below and the salt of the sea is carried up by the wind.

Sasuke has the feeling he isn’t supposed to be here.

He doesn’t leave.

In the clearing, a person moves. Precise, energetic, they flow like the water in the whirlpools. There’s a power there, in every move, in every flex of muscle, and a chakra so intense Sasuke can feel the thrum of it in his bones– feel his eyes pulse. Never before has anyone’s proximity made him itch, made his Sharingan wish to unwind. He has to focus very, very hard, on not activating it. His fingers twitch by his sides, desperate to make a seal, to fight, because that’s what this person is drawing from him: a rawness he has never felt before.

He presses closer, has to remember to breathe, because the figure before him is as fluid as wind, as sea, as any sort of blossoming strength, and Sasuke can feel an answering call in the marrow of his bones.

And then there it is: a flash of blond hair, tan skin shiny in sweat, blue eyes that reflect the color of the sky and Sasuke’s breath is catching, his eyes are _aching_ and–

And–

Naruto is before him as fast as the ground slams against Sasuke’s back.

Naruto’s knees are braced on his thighs, enough pressure that Sasuke can already feel his circulation begin to cut off. Naruto’s hand is wrapped around Sasuke’s throat and then they’re just staring at one another, breathing deep, ragged breaths, and Naruto looks as wild and unhinged as Sasuke feels.

Just the air between them feels static, feels electric, and Sasuke has never, ever, felt like this.

Is this what he had been hoping for? This? This and this and–

“I know you,” Naruto says and he’s grown, Sasuke can see, can see it in the lost roundness of his face, in his sharper cheekbones and jaw, in the broad stretch of his bare shoulders– “ _Sasuke_.”

He says his name like no one else has.

 _Sa-su-ke_.

He sounds it out, rolls it on his tongue. Fugaku would spit it out, would want to be rid of it. His mother rarely said his name, preferred to whisper _sweetheart_ against his forehead. Itachi never called for him.

And here is this boy, this jinchuuriki, who he had met one time for six hours two years ago, who speaks his name like it’s something worth savoring.

Sasuke swallows, sharp and sudden, his mouth is dry.

Naruto releases his throat and moves his legs so that his knees are bracketing Sasuke’s thighs and not cutting off their feeling. And then Naruto’s fingers are tracing, gently, beneath his right eye. He stares at Sasuke in sheer wonder.

“Your eyes are red,” he says and Sasuke panics.

He’s on his feet in an instant and Naruto meets him, steps back, and Sasuke is met with seeing Naruto whole. He is only an inch or two shorter than Sasuke himself, and while he’s lean and still ripe with young adolescence there is a strength in him that belies his age.

A sealing tattoo is stark on his stomach, and Sasuke’s eyes are drawn to it.

And then Naruto’s words register and he focuses, desperately, on calming his emotions. He closes his eyes and only opens them when the ache of his Sharingan has receded.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” is the first thing that falls from his teeth, scraped and nervous for he still feels unhinged, “I just– I heard something.”

Naruto is watching him carefully, head tilted and eyes narrowed.

“I train in private,” he says, and Sasuke is thankful he doesn’t comment any further on his eyes, on his lack of control, “Father says no one can see me train.”

“Why not?” Sasuke asks and slowly, slowly, unclenches his fists.

Naruto relaxes as Sasuke does, and soon he’s smiling again, pushing sweat gold hair out of his face.

“I could lose control and hurt someone,” Naruto says and he sounds like he’s reciting a phrase he’s heard a thousand times, “this is better.”

They fall into a silence but it’s not awkward. Sasuke still feels caught out, feels too exposed, but Naruto shifts on the balls of his feet and Sasuke thinks that maybe he’s feeling the same way.

“What if we train together?” Sasuke says and Naruto looks at him, eyebrows furrowing, and Sasuke hastens to explain himself, “I– no one is good enough.”

“We’ll get in trouble,” Naruto speaks slowly, breaking eye contact to stare beyond Sasuke’s shoulder, “I heard a new boy came. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s changing the subject and Sasuke lets him. He did intrude, after all.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and doesn’t know what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” Naruto tells him and it’s the first time anyone has offered him any condolences.

His chest is tight.

“I’m done with my training for the day,” Sasuke says, and now it’s his turn to change the subject, “what else do you have to do? Besides this?”

Naruto looks around himself.

For the first time Sasuke can see the dents in the trees, the swirl engravings that are deep and splinter the other side of the trunks. The clearing is almost ruined, destroyed, and Sasuke is desperate to know how Naruto had moved to achieve this.

“I can do whatever,” Naruto replies, and there’s a new spark in his eyes, a boyish mischievous that has Sasuke’s heart skipping, “do you wanna swim?”

 _Yes_ , Sasuke wants to yell, _yes, make me forget myself_.

“I’ll win this time,” he tells Naruto and the jinchuuriki’s laugh is exactly how he’s remembered it.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Huh,” Kakashi says, and stares at Sasuke like he’s a stranger, “it worked.”
> 
> “Oh,” he whispers, then, “fuck.”
> 
> Kakashi, the asshole, just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings this chapter! 
> 
> so i'm deviating a bit (a lot) from song of achilles. i still want to keep the main themes from that book in here, but if you were expecting a shot for shot rewrite that's not what this story is.

Naruto takes them far down the beach– away from the boys who have spilled out over the dunes to fish for dinner. 

Instead they wade by jagged rocks, slippery with algae and seaweed. The water is colder today than yesterday, for the sun has been dipping in and out of thick, dark clouds and hasn’t been as diligent in warming the sea.

Regardless Naruto is the first one in.

He jumps without hesitation and Sasuke has a single second to be worried he’d misplaced and fallen on one of the rocks before his head is breaking the surface and he’s looking up at Sasuke with wide, excitable eyes.

“You coming in or what?” he calls over the sharp wind and Sasuke thinks if he freezes at least it will be in the ocean.

He follows Naruto’s path and the water is a shock, jarring and cold. It makes him want to curl into himself for warmth. He goes up for air and it’s not much better.

“Are you cold?” Naruto asks and Sasuke just glowers. The other boy doesn’t look like the temperature is affecting him at all, skin still flushed with color. “Your lips are blue. C’mere.”

“No,” Sasuke says, on impulse, “how are you not freezing?”

Naruto kicks his feet and moves closer, regardless of Sasuke’s glaring. He even laughs and reaches out a hand. The waves aren’t rough– they move the two boys gently up and down in a slow rocking motion as Naruto grasps Sasuke’s left hand in his.

“I said–” Sasuke begins but Naruto talks over.

“Oh relax,” Naruto laughs, “look.”

Warmth begins to spread into his palm and makes its way like a fire up his veins. Sasuke stares at where their hands are joined in shock. Naruto’s skin is glowing red beneath the water, and Sasuke isn’t sure if this is chakra or something else, but the heat settles in his chest and melts into his bones until his teeth are no longer holding the unfathomable desire to crack against each other.

“How are you doing this?” Sasuke asks and lifts Naruto’s hand above the water.

His skin _is_ red, glowing with it, and it looks like even his veins are affected.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Naruto says, “isn’t it cool?”

“Is this why you never run out of energy?” Sasuke questions and Naruto releases their hands to better keep himself afloat.

The direct heat is gone but there’s still warmth in Sasuke’s skin. He isn’t sure how long it’ll last, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless.

“I’m not _that_ energetic,” Naruto argues and Sasuke just stares at him.

“You skipped all the way here,” Sasuke tells him, deadpan, and Naruto splutters as a wave crashes over his head.

“I– I’m happy, okay? I skip when I’m happy!”

“You and three year olds,” Sasuke says but he’s smiling, can’t help it, because Naruto is flushed and bobbing like a bottle in the waves and it’s as endearing as it is hilarious.

“Just cause you pretend to pout and sulk all day doesn’t mean–”

“Race you,” Sasuke interrupts and kicks off from the rocks out further into the ocean.

“Hey!” Naruto yells after him, “That’s cheating!”

Sasuke doesn’t answer but he can hear Naruto behind him and he pushes himself until his muscles strain, until nothing else exists but the waves and the breeze and the way the clouds break. The sun feels like redemption on his cool skin.

They both reach a rocky outcrop at the same time and they pull themselves upon its slick surface to catch their breaths. Naruto, as is becoming more common, speaks first.

“You– you almost beat me,” he says, finally sounding out of breath, and Sasuke turns to face him.

His cheeks are red from exertion, eyes bright, and he doesn’t look upset at all. If anything he’s staring at Sasuke like he had earlier when he’d traced gentle fingers beneath his eyes and said _they’re red_.

“I told you I would,” Sasuke responds, grinning despite himself. Naruto’s face scrunches.

“You _did_ cheat,” he points out and Sasuke feels carefree and loose enough to laugh. The sound is strange and unfamiliar, even to himself. He can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Has he ever?

“Hey, asshole,” Naruto hisses but he’s smiling too and he reaches out to poke Sasuke’s shoulder, “let's have a rematch.”

Sasuke grabs his wrist and feels the pounding of Naruto’s pulse. For someone so strong his bones are so delicate.

“What do I get if I win?” Sasuke asks, feeling bold and giddy. He’s a little cold again from the rocks and can’t suppress his shiver.

Naruto releases the warmth once more and Sasuke grips him tight.

“Nothing,” Naruto grins.

“You’ll get something too,” Sasuke responds, “ _if_ you win.”

“Bastard I can beat you,” Naruto exclaims and he’s sitting up, taking his hand and the heat with him, “fine, what do _you_ want?”

Sasuke pretends to think. He’s had this idea ever since Naruto suggested they race, and he doesn’t wait long to ponder it.

“You train with me.”

Naruto’s expression shutters closed. He looks away.

“I told you I couldn’t do that.”

“No, you told me that other people don’t want you to do that,” Sasuke corrects and sits up as well, “do _you_ want to?”

Naruto clenches his jaw.

“Sasuke–”

And there it is. Even in a disagreement he doesn’t rush to say it. It’s still: _Sa-su-ke_. Despite Naruto not touching him Sasuke feels warm.

“Idiot,” Sasuke interrupts and kicks his shin to get those blue eyes back on him, “what do _you_ want?”

Naruto looks like he can’t even comprehend this.

“I–I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sasuke would take offence but Naruto isn’t boasting. He isn’t egotistical, or arrogant. This isn’t him thinking Sasuke is weak. This is years, and _years_ , and a _lifetime_ of people telling Naruto how he is. How he would act, how he should be. This is regurgitation, overused and spent, and Sasuke wants no part in it.

Naruto is too vibrant, too bright, too powerful, to be condensed into a box of stereotypes and prejudice. It all stems from fear anyway, and Naruto is not violent in nature. Sasuke knows this with an unfounded certainty.

“I can hold my own,” Sasuke pushes, “if you kill me you kill me–”

Naruto’s expression grows dark in his anger.

“If I kill you I kill you?” he hisses, and Sasuke is confused where this rage is coming from but he can feel it like a physical force, can feel it like needles along his skin, “What the hell does that–”

“I have nothing,” Sasuke interrupts and it makes Naruto still, “my family was slaughtered. My name is damning. All I have is my strength and if I can’t test myself then what am I worth?”

Naruto stares at him, and his expression, for the first time, is unreadable. Sasuke sighs and pushes a hand through his wet hair. He feels idiotic, embarrassed and wrong-footed. This was a mistake, he realizes. This is why relationships are hindering, and confusing. He should never have opened his mouth; he should never have even _thought_ it–

But then Naruto’s hand is closing around his wrist, loose but still firm in its presence, and Sasuke looks back to meet his gaze.

“You better be as strong as you say you are,” Naruto tells him, “’cause I don’t wanna kill you.”

Sasuke studies him for a long moment. A wave breaks beneath them and splatters their legs cold again.

“Okay,” Sasuke agrees, “now you.”

“Me what?”

“You name your reward if you win,” Sasuke says and it seems like Naruto had forgotten why this came about in the first place.

“Oh,” he says and then thinks, head tilted up towards the sun, “I dunno. I guess… if I win… you have to spend time with me. Once a week.”

Sasuke blinks. And then his chest feels tight because it’s obvious now, that no matter how personable Naruto may appear he doesn’t have any friends either.

“Pick another thing,” Sasuke says and Naruto’s expression crumbles, “you don’t need to beat me in a race to make me hang out with you. That’s stupid. What else am I going to do with my time?”

Naruto’s smile crinkles his cheeks, stretches his scars, and rivals the sun.

“Heh, okay,” Naruto hums and he seems lighter than before, happier, “if I win you have to tell me about your eyes.”

Sasuke stiffens and Naruto must feel it because he squeezes Sasuke’s wrist.

“Or not!” he says, quick to backpedal and desperate to keep Sasuke’s company, “Nevermind that was– uh– you don’t have to do anything! Just, um, steal me a peach from the kitchens or–”

“Calm down,” Sasuke sighs, “I didn’t say no.”

“Yeah, but–”

“C’mon,” Sasuke interrupts and stands, pulling Naruto up with him, “I don’t want to be accused of cheating again.”

“You _did_ cheat–”

“Are you ready or not?”

Naruto releases his hold on Sasuke and rolls his shoulders.

“Bring it,” he says and they dive into the sea.

It’s a close call but Sasuke’s hand touches the sand first. Naruto collapses right after him, and there it is again, that look of wonder.

+

They part when the sun is low in the sky, covered in sand and sea salt.

A loud dinner bell signals the curfew and in the distance, over the dunes, Sasuke can see the rest of the boys clambering to the baths before dinner. Naruto lingers behind and Sasuke turns to see why.

“Go on without me,” Naruto says, “they’ll look for me in the clearing.”

Sasuke wants to say _I’ll come with you._ He doesn’t want to leave quite yet, doesn’t want to go back to the loud dining hall, the room with twenty cots and overly hormonal boys. He wants to stay here, on this beach, with Naruto for longer. He realizes though that that is selfish, and childish, and they could both be sorely reprimanded. He doesn't want to lose the one good thing he's had in years.

“We’ll train soon,” Sasuke reminds and Naruto’s expression brightens.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “and uh, maybe swim again too?”

“Sure,” Sasuke snorts, “if you want to lose again that badly.”

Predictably, Naruto’s face flushes.

“Hey, asshole, that was the _only time_ –”

“Ah, there you are.”

They both turn. Sasuke should have heard the man approach but he hadn’t. Itachi would be disappointed in his lack of awareness. But the person standing behind him is someone that could sneak up on even Itachi.

Minato Uzumaki does not look angry, just thoughtful, and he glances between Naruto and Sasuke with a contemplative calm. Naruto has his eyes, Sasuke thinks, and the gold of his hair, though where Minato’s holds brown Naruto’s is white from the sun.

“I was training, I swear!” Naruto begins, flustered, and when Minato only raises a slender eyebrow he backpedals awkwardly, “But not with Sasuke! Just, uh, we swam for a bit, that’s all _Ba_ , I didn't–"

“Breathe,” Sasuke hisses and Naruto cuts himself off to take in a heaving breath. Sasuke has never seen the other boy so nervous and it makes his eyes itch, makes his chakra thrum in warning under his skin.

“I’m not upset, Naruto,” Minato speaks softly, gently, and he is so very different from the anger of his wife, “you were late for supper. That’s all.”

Naruto deflates immediately.

“Oh,” he sighs and then, self-consciously, looks at Sasuke, “sorry.”

He can feel Minato’s gaze on him and Sasuke realizes he’s been very disrespectful. He bows low, and tries to swallow the shame in his throat.

“Apologies, my Lord,” he says to his bare feet, “I’ve been rude.”

“You have,” Minato agrees but there is no anger or reprimand in his tone, only the light traces of amusement, “stand, boy.”

He does and Minato studies him, long and intent enough that Sasuke begins to grow nervous.

“Who was your father?” Minato asks, “You look familiar.”

Sasuke remembers never meeting Minato’s gaze back then. He knows he kept his head firmly down, and never spoke out. Fugaku certainty never introduced him, but this is the real test, to see how deeply his father smothered his existence.

“No one, my Lord,” Sasuke answers without hesitation, “a farm hand in the mountain peaks.”

“Oh,” Minato hums, and then he turns to his son, “just swimming, then?”

Naruto nods, frantic.

“Yes, I swear, I didn’t do anything else!”

“Just ruined your clothes,” Minato mutters, thoughtful, and then his attention is on Sasuke again, “yours too, it seems. I’ll have someone bring you a change while you wash those.”

Sasuke nods his thanks and doesn’t dare look up again. He’s already shown enough disrespect to get him excommunicated; he doesn’t want to push it now.

“Come, Naruto,” Minato says and Sasuke hears the shuffle of their feet against the sand, “your mother is impatient enough as is.”

Naruto brushes past and his finger trails along Sasuke’s cheek. The warmth this time is sharp, electric, and Sasuke nearly jumps at the sudden feel of it. He glances up.

“You’re gonna get stuck like that,” Naruto tells him and then he waves, boyish and cheerful, “lets swim again soon!”

Minato has a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder and he regards Sasuke carefully one last time before he blurs and takes his son away with him. The sand kicks up in a delayed fall and settles just as suddenly.

Sasuke stands a moment more, still feeling the last traces of Naruto’s chakra, of how it fizzled on his skin like lights, before he’s able to breathe steady again and heads in the direction of the dining hall. The sky is red, beautiful and vibrant, and Sasuke contemplates skipping dinner to watch the sun disappear completely. It’s a view he never had back home, and even during his visits to Konoha the tall trees blocked out the best of it.

He isn’t expecting Juugo to be waiting for him.

“You were gone all afternoon,” the large teenager says in way of greeting but his tone is soft and not accusatory. Sasuke takes the spot next to him against the wall and they stand in a measured silence as the sun dips and the dinner bell rings one final warning.

“Swimming,” is all Sasuke says.

Juugo hums, and doesn’t press for more.

“Come,” he says when the sky has faded to plum, “the fish is good today.” Here he smiles, a small, teasing thing. “You wouldn’t know since you missed lunch.”

Oddly enough Sasuke feels like a child being scolded.

“I told you,” he mutters and pushes past Juugo through the large wood door leading inside, “swimming.”

“Ah, of course,” Juugo says, and Sasuke is thankful that he lowers his voice so the corridor doesn’t carry it. Not that much could be heard with the boisterous noise from above. “I thought I saw the jinchuuriki today.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond but he feels like it’s answer enough. He hates that it’s answer enough but Juugo’s backed him into a corner that he can’t tactfully crawl out of. The stones muffle the commotion from the dining hall but it carries nonetheless and grows as they climb the stairs. Sasuke almost turns back around, almost goes back to his cot or hide away in that storage pantry outside the kitchens. He really doesn’t want to handle noise right now.

He’s best at dealing with people one on one, not in mass groups, and while no one talks to him besides Juugo and Suigetsu it still feels like too much right now. There’s an itch under his skin again, restless and profound, and it’s the feeling of missing something– of forgetting something important.

This could be any number of things, Sasuke reasons, because he did just lose his entire clan last month and he’s not the best at processing the most simple of things. Still, he doesn’t turn around and Juugo is a comforting, quiet presence by his side as they sit. The serving girls have already brought out food but they bring more for Sasuke and Juugo’s late arrival. The fish is good, Juugo hadn’t been exaggerating, and it’s a simple meal paired with bread and herbed butter.

The windows of the hall have been opened to let in the cool evening breeze, and once dinner is complete the sun has drifted to sleep in the wake of dark blue skies.

“Where’d you go this afternoon?” Suigetsu asks as they gather their plates to take back to the kitchens, “Karin was looking for you.”

That’s been a common occurrence, these last few weeks. Sasuke would be lying if he said it didn’t make him uncomfortable, to be the sole fixation of the girl’s attention. He’d thought she hated him, but Suigetsu had laughed and said that no, she likes him. As in wants to sleep with him.

“Seriously man,” Suigetsu groans when Sasuke says nothing, “how is it you have almost every girl here into you and you don’t take advantage of it? It’s not fair!”

Sasuke narrows his eyes in annoyance as Suigetsu’s voice bounces from the stones as they head back to their corridors. Baths were held before dinner, but Sasuke was late. He’s always late, preferring to sneak away when everyone is asleep to wash by himself.

He’s never liked people’s attention on him for long, and bathing is no exception. It wouldn’t be so horrible, if Suigetsu didn’t use all that time comparing their dicks and talking about that girl he met last summer who sucked him off behind a cherry stand in a market.

“Stop shouting,” Sasuke mutters but Suigetsu carries on like Sasuke hadn’t spoken at all.

“It’s ridiculous! Are you defective?”

“Enough, Suigetsu,” Juugo intervenes and Sasuke is grateful to him, once again. “Sasuke was _swimming_.”

Sasuke’s steps falter. He shoots Juugo a warning look but he’s met with absolute calm. It makes Sasuke want to punch him. Juugo knows he was with Naruto, but no one else can. The jinchuuriki isn’t supposed to be mingling with anyone, let alone poor orphan boys who should be training.

“At least take me with you next time,” Suigetsu whines and whines and _whines_ – “I hate afternoon sparring. It’s so fucking hot, and Hatake just sits in the shade and reads.”

“You couldn’t sneak anywhere, Suigetsu, just your voice would give us away,” Sasuke says and pushes past the pale haired boy to get to his cot.

“Hey! Would not!” Suigetsu yells but he proves Sasuke’s point well enough.

It’s dark, and Sasuke doesn’t sleep.

His dreams still smell of copper and even though exhaustion makes his bones heavy and his eyes sag he's afraid to fall into the memories of death tonight. Instead, he pushes up, grabs the one towel given to him, and goes to the baths. A serving girl had left new clothes on his bed but he still needs to wash his old ones from today. They are stiff from the salt and Sasuke needs to clean them first.

The bathing hall is large and oval.

It is made from warming stones that the sun heats through a glass ceiling during the day. If Sasuke had come here when he was supposed to both the floors and the baths would be warm. As it is now he shivers as he walks. Uzushio is built on whirlpools, and this is utilized effectively in how the baths get water. They simply built the structure around one of these fresh water pools, with small trenches in the stone floors to help recycle the water back into the hills. It’s fresh, always, and is much easier than carrying buckets from wells.

It’s dark save for the pale light of the moon and Sasuke begins the processes of washing his shirt and pants. Thankfully Uzushio’s clothes are cotton and not wool like the Uchiha’s, and they do not hold in as much heat. At least he doesn’t have to be concerned with the smell of his sweat as he washes the sea away. There’s a drying line hanging by the far wall and Sasuke hangs the wet articles along it before finally dipping into the bath himself. He has his own bar of soap that he’d been instructed to make his first week and it’s almost all used up now.

The water is warmer than he had been expecting, but he still makes the simple seals to blow his own heat across it. The steam rises up, seeps into his skin, and he leans his head back against the stones and stares at the moon overhead.

Suigetsu had talked nonstop tonight, mostly about sex, and Sasuke is still confused by the boy’s obsession with it. It’s not something he’s ever really thought about, not something that’s been on his mind. He’s had dreams but he remembers none of them, only woken up with the evidence of their contents between his legs.

The boys speak of it too– of the serving girls and their waists, their legs, their chests. They whisper to each other late at night and then masturbate when they think the others are asleep. Sasuke feels surrounded by it, closed in on all sides. He doesn’t understand the appeal of women. Their bodies are simply that: bodies. They hold no further desire for him.

He takes a breath and sinks deeper beneath the water, deeper under the moon. He remembers his father touching the curve of his mother’s waist, of his hand slipping beneath the folds of her robes. His father had wanted it, his mother had as well, and still Sasuke doesn’t understand.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it.

The only girl who comes to mind is Karin. Maybe it’s because Suigetsu had mentioned her tonight, or maybe it’s because she is the first girl his age Sasuke has had any sort of prolonged contact with. He tries to picture the brightness of her hair, the tan of her skin that all Uzushio possess. He tries to imagine himself beside her, touching her the way he’d seen his father touch his mother, the way the boy’s speak of touching the serving girls late at night.

He tries to make her into something that would have him tremble, that would make a heat light inside him, but it is not working and he grows frustrated with trying. He opens his eyes and feels exposed beneath the stars. He finishes the rest of his bath quickly, the water having cooled and finding no reason to stay longer.

+

The sun is hot and wide in the sky, its mouth opens in a fitful yawn.

Sweat drips from everyone’s skin, clings to their pants and their hair. Sasuke has long since discarded his shirt, and the sparring sword in his hands is slick from the heat. Kakashi, as usual, reads beneath the bows of a water oak by the building’s walls. He drinks from a water-skin and only offers anyone a drink when they best their opponent. Two boys have already thrown up from dehydration. A newer orphan, who Sasuke has not met with swirls on his round cheeks, passed out an hour ago.

No one has beat Sasuke yet and still, he is holding back. It is as frustrating as it is boring. Juugo is the only one who could beat Sasuke in wrestling, in both form and physical strength, but the other boy refuses to fight and Kakashi never pushes him. With no partner he makes his way over to the shade and sits down. It is rude, and could maybe get him whipped, but Kakashi is grating on his nerves today and it is hot.

“You know,” Kakashi speaks after several long moments of silence, “you’re going to have to take this seriously one day.”

Sasuke snorts and leans back against the smooth bark.

“I am,” he says, just to annoy the older man.

Kakashi turns the page of his book. It crinkles and then settles under his thumb.

“Lord Minato is looking for someone to be the jinchuuriki’s companion,” he says, nonchalant and easy, and Sasuke focuses on keeping his heart rate even. He wouldn’t be surprised if Kakashi has been trained to hear it. “He will not allow anyone who is weak around his son.”

“I’m not weak,” Sasuke snaps and immediately flushes at rising to such simple bait, “I’ve beaten everyone here.”

“Almost everyone,” Kakashi says and turns another page. Sasuke grits his teeth, his irritation sparking like a flame in his chest.

“Why tell me this?” he asks.

A breeze blows by, it ruffles the leaves overhead. Somewhere, a boy is knocked down into the dirt.

“Just thought you should know,” Kakashi hums and Sasuke is about to respond before the man is handing him the water-skin.

Before Sasuke can take it, however, Kakashi pulls it just out of reach. “Maybe, if you could beat me, Lord Minato would consider you.”

Sasuke’s grip is weak as Kakashi pushes the water at him and then stands, stretching leisurely and groaning as his back pops. He looks down at Sasuke, his expression lax and uninterested.

“And Sasuke,” he says, like this is an afterthought and not what he’d been meaning to say the whole time, “if you’re going to sneak off with the Lord of Uzushio’s son you best be smarter about it.”

Sasuke flushes, hot and sudden. This is a warning, and a heavy one at that. Kakashi is smiling as he tucks his book away.

“Now,” he hums, “stand up.”

Sasuke feels awkward under the heat of the sun, the water-skin moist in his hand, and the eyes of the boys are now on their instructor. He does, carefully. Kakashi is relaxed, not at all poised for a fight, but Sasuke has trained with Itachi for years and recognizes the change of energy instantly. For a moment, they just observe one another.

“Well?” Kakashi drawls and tilts his head, “Are you going to come at me?”

Sasuke almost laughs. He feels absurd. And then he feels angry, at Kakashi and at the situation. He cannot show his true strength here. He cannot expose himself. He doesn’t trust that his Sharingan won’t activate instinctively if his body perceives this as a true threat. It will be difficult, and not something he has trained in.

Kakashi is staring, expectant, and then Sasuke understands. This is what Kakashi is doing: training him to fight without the Sharingan. Teaching him control. If a war breaks, and Sasuke is pressured, his Sharingan will activate because he does not have that sort of autonomy over himself yet. Itachi had never taught him to hide their power. Kakashi is. So Sasuke takes a deep, steadying breath, and tells himself, over and over as he exhales, that this is not a real fight.

There is no real threat–

Kakashi grabs his wrist, kicks out his right foot, and Sasuke is on the ground instantly. The dirt puffs into his skin, up his nose and stings his eyes. His shoulder is aching in protest at the angle and he can feel Kakashi’s knee, hard and unrelenting, in between his shoulder blades. It’s hard to catch his breath, and if he moves too much to his right his shoulder threatens to dislocate.

“Terrible,” Kakashi tuts and Sasuke grits his teeth, “and here you were boasting.”

He can feel the anger spark in his veins, can feel the familiar pressure of chakra building behind his eyes–

Kakashi presses his knee in harder.

“Easy,” he whispers, “control yourself.”

“Get off me then,” Sasuke snaps, squeezing his eyes shut to fight against the red that’s slowly beginning to seep into his vision.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck–

“No,” Kakashi says, and again, “control yourself, Sasuke.”

He feels desperate. Angry. The hottest of emotions threaten to choke him. He hates being out of control, of not being able to accomplish something that should be so _easy_. He rubs his face into the dirt and lets the gravel cut up his nose. The pain helps, surprisingly, and he breathes in as deep as he can with Kakashi sitting over his lungs.

“There you go,” Kakashi says, like an owner to his dog, and then he’s up, taking all the humiliating pressure with him.

Sasuke takes another moment and when he opens his eyes the world is bright and overexposed. He stands, rolling his aching shoulder. The boys around them are staring, expressions mixed with shock and confusion, and for a moment, Sasuke is terrified that he has failed. That they know. But then he feels the wet along his temple and is relieved that it is only blood that they see.

Kakashi is uncaring about the wound. He’s staring at Sasuke with an expression that is unreadable but Sasuke is well versed in expressionless people. Fugaku stared at him like this all the time. Disappointment. Sasuke doesn’t know why this stings, why this hurts from Kakashi, but it does. He inhales and its mostly dirt. He coughs around his next works.

“Is this your backwards way of saying you’ll train me?”

Kakashi purses his lips beneath his mask and then kicks the water-skin at Sasuke’s feet.

“Clean yourself up,” he says, “you’re not serious enough to even be considered.”

Kakashi leaves and the bell rings. The boys slowly disperse, their attention wavering between Sasuke and Kakashi’s fading form. Sasuke swallows, his temple throbbing. He hadn’t even registered his head cracking against the earth. He can taste the copper of blood in the back of his throat.

Copper.

He’s going to throw up.

And he does, behind the water oak, because he still has some shred of his pride left and he’d like to keep it as long as he can. He feels sick in his own skin, stretched too tight and too much over his bones. He’s delicate, and he hates it. The bell rings again, a call for lunch, a call to fish, and Sasuke disappears. He doesn’t seek out Naruto. Instead he walks the trails behind the palace walls and there are no guards here to question him. He’d go to the sea but he’s beginning to associate that with Naruto as well and for once he’d like a place to clear his cluttered mind.

He finds it when the valley peaks and the hill slopes. It’s an un-obscured view of the sea and Uzushiogakure. _Beautiful_ , Sasuke thinks, and he sits on the grass and tries to ignore the sour taste of acid in his mouth. His mother would have liked this spot and he tries to imagine her, tries to picture her face. His eyes prick when he has trouble and he abandons this to focus on steadying his breaths instead.

There’s a mosquito buzzing to his right, a small animal wading nervously through the tall grass. And a chakra signature that is familiar and warm. Sasuke opens his eyes. Naruto is staring down at him.

“What happened to your head?” he asks. Sasuke had forgotten that he’s minimally injured.

“Nothing,” Sasuke says and closes his eyes. This time, it seems, Naruto has found him.

“You’re bleeding,” the other boy states. Sasuke doesn’t look at him again.

“It’s fine,” Sasuke sighs and when Naruto doesn’t move, just hovers above him Sasuke grows restless. “Stop staring.”

“I can try to heal you,” Naruto says and moves to sit by Sasuke’s hurt shoulder. “If you want.”

Sasuke peers at him, eyebrows furrowing. Medical ninjutsu is rare. It is difficult, for it takes immense chakra control. He is certain, just from the feel of Naruto’s chakra, that the boy does not possess this ability. It doesn’t mean he won’t– Uzushio is known for its longevity and strength. Their medical knowledge is advanced and sought after. Sasuke would not be surprised if all their people were trained in this.

“Drop it, Naruto,” Sasuke tells him and hopes that will end this unnecessary conversation.

Naruto, as he is in all things, is persistent.

“You're hurt, it’s not nothing,” and he touches the pads of his fingers gently, carefully, along Sasuke’s scraped temple. It aches, but doesn’t hurt, and Sasuke sighs into it softly.

“Training,” Sasuke explains. Naruto snorts.

“Someone finally bested you?” he asks, “How could that happen, when you brag all the time?”

Sasuke swats his hand away.

“I sparred with Kakashi,” Sasuke defends, “and he caught me off guard.”

Naruto laughs. It doesn’t make Sasuke want to claw at his ears.

“Well,” Naruto says, “he got you good.”

“Why are you here?” Sasuke snaps as Naruto lays down beside him. “Shouldn’t you be training?”

Naruto stares up at the clouds overhead and doesn’t look at Sasuke when he speaks. It makes Sasuke want to snap under his nose, makes him want to pinch Naruto’s cheeks, just so he can see if the blue of Naruto’s eyes is the same shade as the sky.

“I’ve trained all night,” Naruto answers, closing his eyes, “I don’t want to now.”

Sasuke notices his hands, for the first time. Naruto’s palms are red, irritated, and the skin of his knuckles are scraped. He knows Naruto trains alone and these injuries puzzle him.

“Did you spar with a wall?” he asks and Naruto huffs another laugh.

“Something similar,” he answers vaguely, “did you get in trouble for being out with me?”

He’s as good as diverting attention as Sasuke.

“No,” Sasuke says, “but your father didn’t seem pleased.”

“He was only worried,” Naruto sighs, “they just worry.”

Sasuke remembers, suddenly, what Itachi had told him that night. That his brother had kneeled by his bed smelling of gore and metal and had whispered _people are after the jinchuuriki_. Sasuke isn’t sure why he only processes this now. A knot forms in his stomach, right beneath his navel. He reaches, without thinking, to trace the wounds on Naruto’s hands. Naruto’s eyes open, and he stares at Sasuke in light surprise.

He doesn’t pull away, so Sasuke doesn’t either.

“Have you married that Hyuuga girl?” is what he asks.

He didn’t mean that. He wanted to ask Naruto about his safety, about his protection detail. He wanted to ask Naruto about what being his companion meant. Instead, this is what spills from Sasuke’s mouth. A question about a girl he has only seen once, two and a half years ago.

Naruto pulls his hands away and Sasuke lets him. Naruto’s mouth is twisted, his expression slightly pinched. He’s staring at Sasuke as if he can’t understand him.

“There will be a private ceremony,” Naruto says, lowly, “she is of a prestigious clan. She will probably marry again, to someone who is not a jinchuuriki. I will only lay with her until she’s carrying my child. That’s all it is.”

 _Security_ , Sasuke thinks.

“Have you?” he asks.

“No,” Naruto whispers and turns his gaze away, “not yet.”

Sasuke doesn’t know why he pushes.

“Do you want to?”

The words fall between them like stones, like the ones Sasuke used to try and skip over the bay with his mother. These words fail like those stones did, and they plop and sink without purchase.

“Why ask me that?” Naruto snaps, irritated. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Just like my head doesn’t matter?”

“That’s different, you ass. You’re injured. This–”

“If you don’t want it, it will injure you,” Sasuke interrupts and Naruto looks surprised. Sasuke takes a breath and turns away.

“It’s different,” Naruto says but his words are weak and he’s wavering, Sasuke can hear the shake. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” Sasuke sighs and closes his eyes.

He isn’t sure what he’s started but he needs to respect Naruto ending it. They sit in a tense silence before Naruto stands.

“It’s different,” he repeats, as though willing Sasuke to take back his words.

He can’t, no matter how clumsy they were.

“No,” Sasuke says, and stares up at him, “it isn’t.”

Naruto’s posture is rigid, tight and wrung, and he looks like he wants to argue further. Instead he takes a quivering inhale and stomps away. Sasuke watches him until he’s gone. That wasn’t how he wanted that conversation to go. He thinks he’s alone again, and closes his eyes, but then a shadow is falling over him and he’s looking up. Naruto is bending over him, expression somber.

“We’re not talking about that anymore,” he says firmly and pokes Sasuke’s nose, “agreed?”

Sasuke stares at him, notices the strain in his jaw, in his shoulders. Maybe this is something Naruto hasn’t allowed himself to think about, the role he plays here. He’s _been_ used, is _being_ used, and will continue to be used until he dies.

It makes Sasuke’s own blood boil, makes the chakra in his veins melt into his bones. Naruto will be used to carrying on the jinchuuriki line, will be used for the Uzumaki and demon blood, will be used as a weapon to wage wars and spill gore and tear apart nations and no one– no one besides his parent’s, will see him as anything else.

Sasuke is brought from himself by Naruto leaning closer.

“Your eyes are red again,” he says, a reminder, gentle in its nature but still Sasuke curses and shuts his eyes tight.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “I’m working on it.”

He still sees Naruto’s expression– seared in red behind his eyelids. He’ll see it easily, now, until he dies. Just like he’ll see the dirt Kakashi pressed him in, just like he’ll see his mother’s body burn– the Sharingan doesn’t let you forget.

“It’s called Sharingan, right?” Naruto asks and when Sasuke is ready to see the world again the other boy has taken a seat beside his shoulder.

“Yes,” Sasuke confirms, and, again, “I’m working on it.”

Naruto’s nose scrunches.

“On what?” he asks.

“Controlling it,” Sasuke sighs, “you weren’t supposed to see.”

“Huh,” Naruto hums, “I think it’s impressive.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, “impressive?”

“Yeah,” Naruto says, “means you’ve been through a lot and survived right?”

Sasuke’s throat closes up. He blinks, and his vision isn’t red but blurred. He turns away.

“Hey,” Naruto whispers, “are you crying?”

“No,” Sasuke hisses, “shut up.”

There’s a shuffling and for a moment Sasuke thinks Naruto has left him. But then there are hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him up and Sasuke lets it happen because he hasn’t been touched gently since his mother and–

Naruto tucks him against his chest and holds him close. Like this Sasuke can feel his heartbeat. It’s fast, and Sasuke isn’t sure why. Does Naruto expect to be pushed away? To be hurt? Sasuke doesn’t hug him back, he can’t move his arms, can’t make his body cooperate, but he’s sure that Naruto can feel how he relaxes against him.

“Did I say something wrong?” Naruto asks and Sasuke can feel his breath against his neck. It makes him shiver but he isn’t cold.

It makes him–

“No,” Sasuke whispers and tries to swallow, “don’t look at me.”

Naruto laughs.

“Can’t,” he says.

“When we pull apart,” Sasuke elaborates and feels embarrassed just to say it, “don’t look.”

“Okay,” Naruto soothes, “let go when you want.”

“Okay,” Sasuke says and doesn’t pull away for a while.

The whole time his vision is stained red.

+

Sasuke’s never had friends.

He’s never had any close relationships besides his mother. He isn’t sure what’s normal, or how to navigate this new terrain that Naruto has mapped for him. He assumes this is what everyone feels in friendships. A warmth, a bubbling inside of his chest– he feels excited when Naruto’s chakra is near, hot and pulsing. It’s interesting, that Naruto’s chakra is so strong. Sasuke’s never been a sensory type, or sensitive to chakra patterns. He’s never been so in tune to anyone else’s before but he attributes it to the power of the fox demon.

The days become less monotonous.

He leaves after training. He finds Naruto or sometimes, Naruto finds him. Sasuke forgets that they aren’t supposed to meet like this. He forgets that Naruto isn’t allowed to associate himself with anyone his parents do not approve of. But he knows that Lord Minato and Lady Kushina are smart, are aware, and that they must have some idea where their son is. Kakashi approaches him often, now, and takes him behind the walls after the lunch bell rings.

“Okay,” he sighs, like this is a chore and not something he himself has designed, “come at me.”

Sasuke does and each time ends the same: dirt in his mouth, blood in his nose, and his Sharingan thrumming like a pinched nerve behind his eyes. He’s memorized Kakashi’s disappointment and sees it often.

“Do you even want to get better?” Kakashi asks him, twisting his wrist and ignoring the sharp hiss of pain that leaves between Sasuke’s teeth, “Do you even want to be around the jinchuuriki?”

“Naruto,” Sasuke spits and his tongue is copper and heavy, “he has a fucking name.”

Kakashi’s eyebrow rises. He almost laughs. 

“Oh?” he hums, “When did you get so protective?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer. He grits his teeth and fights the bile in the back of his throat. Copper no longer makes him throw up but it doesn’t help with the nightmares, though those have spread out and sometimes Sasuke can sleep without sweating through his sheets. Kakashi’s grip tightens and Sasuke is surprised his wrist hasn’t broken.

“All right,” Kakashi muses, “lets try this. Think of Naruto.”

Sasuke blinks.

“What?” he gasps and tries to kick Kakashi away. It doesn’t work.

“Are you deaf _and_ dumb?” Kakashi sighs, “do what I say.”

Sasuke’s shoulder throbs. His wrist hurts. There’s blood in his nose and dirt in his eyes and his Sharingan is _burning_ –

Kakashi twists.

The pain is hot. Fuck, okay. If Kakashi wants him to think of Naruto he’ll fucking think of Naruto. It’s not hard. He thinks about the boy often. He can’t help it. When he closes his eyes he sees blue and gold and warmth. Naruto is always so warm. He has Naruto memorized better than Kakashi. He has Naruto happy, Naruto angry, Naruto smug. He hasn’t used his eyes to brand an unhappy Naruto into his psyche. He doesn’t want to see that forever, prefers the moments where Naruto is laughing, where his skin is flushed, where his hair has grown too long and falls against his cheekbones. Sasuke has been in Uzushio for three months and all he has to take away from it is Naruto. He barely processes that Kakashi has loosened his grip until the pain in his shoulder and wrist has eased.

“Face me,” Kakashi tells him and Sasuke does.

Sasuke has seen Kakashi bored, amused, and disappointed. He has never seen him surprised.

“Huh,” Kakashi says, and stares at Sasuke like he’s a stranger, “it worked.”

It takes a while for Sasuke to realize that his Sharingan has receded.

“Oh,” he whispers, then, “fuck.”

Kakashi, the asshole, just laughs.

+

“Wow, what happened to your face?” Suigetsu asks and pokes Sasuke’s bruised cheek harshly.

Sasuke just focuses on wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Don’t touch me,” he grumbles and Suigetsu pokes him again, just to be an ass, so Sasuke kicks him in the gut.

“I do worry,” Juugo tells him gently, from where he’s sitting against the stones, the sun warming his skin. Unlike Sasuke Juugo does not burn. “You have been getting hurt a lot recently.”

“It’s nothing,” Sasuke sighs, “stop pestering me.”

“Aw are you into some rough sex?” Suigetsu asks, “Is that what’s going on with you? Have you finally lost your virginity?”

“Get laid, Suigetsu, and shut up,” Sasuke bites and Suigetsu opens his mouth to say something– perhaps whine longer– when a shadow falls over them.

The three boys look up.

Karin is standing, blocking out the sun. Her hands are firm on her hips, her stance wide. It is not the posture of a noble lady but she takes it anyway. Her bright Uzumaki hair is pulled in a loose braid and she’s dressed in nice robes, tucked in a sash about her waist. She doesn’t usually come to the training grounds, preferring to find Sasuke after meals, but here she is and Sasuke can’t help but hope that Suigetsu distracts her once more. All he wants is to go into the sea and avoid this conversation.

“I can’t believe this,” she says in way of greeting, “you all are looking like you rolled in the goat pens. Don’t you know what tomorrow is?”

Sasuke relaxes when he finds that Juugo looks just as confused as he does.

“Uh,” Suigetsu begins.

“The Hyuuga’s are coming,” she interrupts and she only speaks to Sasuke, “you’re going to have to clean the entire palace.”

Suigetsu slumps.

“Wait,” he whines, “why do we have–”

Sasuke has stopped listening. He stands. Karin’s gaze follows him, narrowing. Suigetsu reaches out, grabs his leg– “Are you seriously leaving again?”

Sasuke walks forward and Suigetsu lets him go. He hears Karin call after him and this is rude, unsightly, for him to just leave, to not listen to someone who is higher than him, but he can’t stop. If he stops he’ll– he isn’t sure what. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Everything is hot and trapped and–

A firm grip on his arm stops him. He knows this touch. It makes him choke on earth and taste the same smell that killed his family. He is pressed into the bark of a twisted tree. Kakashi stares down at him, eye narrowed.

“You were rude,” he says, “you’ll have to apologize.”

Sasuke doesn’t answer. He wouldn’t be surprised if he were punished for this.

“Why are you throwing a fit?”

As always, Kakashi knows every button to press.

“I’m not–”

“You are,” Kakashi interrupts smoothly, “why?”

Sasuke almost bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to speak, doesn’t trust himself enough to not speak the truth. Kakashi sighs.

“Lets spar,” he says, and begins to lead Sasuke to their spot behind the palace walls, “maybe getting hit will clear your head.”

It doesn’t. But this is the first day that he doesn’t let Kakashi pin him. It’s the first day he can control his Sharingan through the duration of their lesson. The whole time, he thinks of Naruto. And this is friendship, he thinks, this all consuming feeling of want. He wants to be around Naruto. He wants to talk to Naruto. He wants to listen while Naruto tells him about his day, about a scroll he found, about how his mother had gotten upset with him for spilling her nice mulled wine. He thinks and thinks and thinks and at the end of it all, the sun has begun to set and Sasuke is covered in dirt and sweat with just a hint of blood.

“Well,” Kakashi says and he’s almost out of breath, “talk to me.”

“The Hyuuga’s are coming tomorrow,” Sasuke spits. It tastes like it always does.

“They are,” Kakashi agrees.

Sasuke’s hands clenched into fists. He can feel his nails, too long, bite crescents into his palms.

“It’s not right,” Sasuke continues, and once the words spill it’s hard to choke them back down, “Naruto doesn’t want her.”

Kakashi is silent for a long while. He takes a step forwards. The sea breaks on the stones in the high tide and Sasuke can hear the gull’s shriek with hunger overhead.

“I’m going to give you some advice,” Kakashi says and waits until Sasuke meets his gaze to continue, “Whatever your feeling is dangerous. It is not worth jeopardizing your place in Uzushio. You want to get stronger? You want to only belong to you? Then bury this. It’s helping no one. Naruto is aware of his role. He’s been aware of it since before he could walk. He knows his place. It’s time you learn yours.”

He walks forward until he’s standing too close and Sasuke is forced to tilt his head up. Sasuke’s grown since he’s been here but not by much, not enough that he doesn’t feel like a child being reprimanded by their parents.

It’s a thought that makes his chest hurt, his gut clench. He doesn’t like what Kakashi has told him. He hates it. It’s the same regurgitated jargon that Naruto had spouted.

_I could hurt someone_.

 _It’s not the same_.

“Listen,” Kakashi urges, “it’s fine to show your anger here. But don’t let Lord Minato see this. You hear me? Trying to speak up for the jinchuuriki could get you killed. It could start a war, if you mess relations up with the Hyuuga’s. So–” he reaches out, pinches Sasuke’s cheek– “you smile if you remember how to and be polite. That’s your only job. Do it.”

Sasuke shrugs his touch away and Kakashi begins his walk back to the palace. Sasuke exhales, shaky, and doesn’t move until the world is dark and the dinner bell has long since rang.

+

Sasuke opens his eyes.

The room is dim, lit only by the moon. Someone is snoring, loud and congested. A cool breeze sweeps like a whisper over the stones. There’s something stale in the air. Sasuke knows he won’t be able to fall back asleep. Now that he’s awake there is no point. He pushes out of bed and creeps along the back corridor, up the servant’s stairs and down two winding halls. He goes to the thin balcony he discovered his first week here. He hasn’t been back for a while. The curtains part for him, flapping gently in the breeze off the ocean below.

Sasuke turns. He is not alone. Naruto is sitting, looking up at him. He is dressed in his sleep shirt and pants, hair messed and tangled from sleep. If Sasuke didn’t know him as well as he did, if he didn’t have every line of his face memorized, then he may not have noticed the exhaustion that hangs around Naruto’s frame.

Naruto, at least, looks surprised to see him.

“Sasuke,” he says and hurries to stand, “are you allowed here?”

“To be perfectly honest,” Sasuke says, “I don’t really know where this is.”

He doesn’t. He just followed the halls and the stairs blindly. He just followed a trail of fizzling warmth in the air. It’s the same way he followed it before and he’s done it again now.

“You’re in the West Hall,” Naruto tells him, “you’re not allowed here.”

“Oh,” Sasuke says and stares at his feet, “well, I am. Here, I mean.”

Naruto stares at him.

“Could you not sleep either?” he asks. Sasuke shrugs and scratches the back of his head before realizing that he’s fidgeting and stops.

He isn’t sure why he feels nervous, or why Naruto is so subdued. Sasuke turns his attention out over the balcony’s rails. Uzushio is still dark but he can make out the decorations lining the street, the lanterns that remain lit even with the slight breeze. It will be gorgeous in the sun if it is beautiful in the night.

“The Hyuuga’s are coming tomorrow,” Naruto whispers and it takes everything Sasuke has to not look at him, to give him this illusion of privacy, “Hinata bled last week.”

Sasuke swallows. He measures his breaths the way Kakashi taught him. Thinking about Naruto is nearly impossible when the real thing is beside his elbow. He does not feel calm.

“Is that why you can’t sleep?” Sasuke asks.

Naruto is quiet for a very long time. It stretches to the point where Sasuke doesn’t think he’ll answer. But then there are fingers grazing his wrist and drawing his attention. Naruto isn’t meeting his gaze, looking off beyond the sea.

“I wonder what life would have been like sometimes,” Naruto whispers, “if my mother and I were not born to be jinchuuriki.”

Sasuke understands this feeling. He was faced with it when he no longer had a clan, could choose not to have a name. It’s freeing. But he doesn’t tell Naruto this for it would not help him.

“When this is over,” Sasuke says instead, “you have to train with me.”

He meets Naruto’s eyes then and offers him a quiet, small smile. 

“Yeah,” Naruto agrees and his fingers tighten their hold around Sasuke’s wrist, “okay.”

They part ways before the sun comes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys!!!!!! thank you so much for the wonderful feedback and kind words!! motivated me to write this in like, a day, so thank you thank you!! hope you enjoy! xx


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sasuke is burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mild violence and blood 
> 
> sorry for any spelling / grammatical errors! not beta'd.

Uzushio is grand.

It’s always grand, but especially today. Which means Sasuke hates it.

There is a parade and he can hear the music, the festivities in the streets below rising like the building hum of the cicadas back home. Palm leaves have been braided together and line the edges of a main road for the Hyuuga’s carriages.

Lanterns, purple for the clan’s colors and good health, are lit and placed delicately in every shop and every home's entrance. Silks decorate the trees and a feast has been brewing in the kitchens since the night before. Sasuke has spent the entire day cleaning, dusting, turning over the dirt and picking fresh tomatoes and peas.

He tries to drown it all out. He tries to focus on the dulcimer’s lullaby scattered on the wind. He tries to focus on the smell of lamb and beef, the finest meats, wafting from the kitchen’s open windows.

He focuses on his hunger, on his restlessness, and he trains with Juugo in the hot sun of the near empty training grounds because. He. Can’t. Stop.

Stopping means thinking. Thinking means reality.

Sasuke doesn’t want either of those things right now.

Juugo calls it when the bells ring at noon, when they’re covered in sweat and sand and all the grime is kicked up by their bare feet. Sasuke can feel the stinging sensation of a sunburn on his back and neck but still he doesn’t straighten from his crouch.

“Again,” he commands, “come at me, Juugo.”

The larger boy sighs.

“We’ve been at it for over an hour, Sasuke,” he says, tone calm and nearly drowned out by the commotion around them, “we’ll get lashed if we slack off any longer.”

“We’re not slacking off,” Sasuke argues, “we’re training. We’re getting stronger to serve Lord Uzumaki, how is that–”

“I can take it from here, Juugo,” Kakashi’s voice drawls and Sasuke whips around to see the man lounging in the shade of the water palm, book open and pages fluttering against the salty breeze.

“Sir Commander,” Juugo greets, dipping his head before nodding at Sasuke and leaving promptly.

Sasuke wants to growl.

“We were training,” he spits and Kakashi closes his book with his thumb.

“Sure,” he says, “not avoiding anything.”

Sasuke lunges.

Kakashi is dangerously close to making him step into reality so if he can just make the older man shut up, just make him fight back then– Kakashi’s boot has him pinned to the sand in an instant, hot and gritty against the smooth skin of Sasuke’s cheek. Kakashi is pressing right over the new burn, Sasuke’s bare skin is all the more sensitive for it. He tries to use his weight to flip himself over, or his elbow to break Kakashi’s ankle, but Kakashi simply presses down and all the air leaves Sasuke’s lungs in a whoosh of pain.

“Go take a bath,” Kakashi says, voice low and warning, “and go about your day as you would any other. You think this is how a companion of the jinchuuriki is supposed to act? You really think you’ll be chosen behaving like this?”

Sasuke flushes with shame and indignation. He grits his teeth so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if something cracked.

He hasn’t seen Naruto all day. Besides for last night, in the pale blue of the moon, Naruto had looked withdrawn in a way that made Sasuke uncomfortable. Today marks more than arranged marriages and political bloodlines. Sasuke wants nothing to do with it.

He wants Naruto _out of it_.

He entertains the idea, wistfully, of breaking through the guards and into the West Hall. He imagines finding Naruto there and taking him away. Perhaps they could go to one of the islands on the coast, deep into the sea and far removed from everyone else.

No looming war could touch them. Sasuke will have mastered his Sharingan. He will have mastered every jutsu he’s ever seen and no one, not even Death herself, could lay a hand on Naruto then.

It takes him a moment to realize that Kakashi has gone and that the world is red.

He closes his eyes.

He breathes.

When he opens them he is alone and his back is on fire.

+

“You’re an idiot,” Karin tells him, non-too kind, as she slaps another layer of aloe onto Sasuke’s back, “I mean honestly. How long were you out there? Juugo covered for you, ya know. Took over your cleaning duties in the kitchen. You owe him one.”

Sasuke doesn’t speak. His tongue is cotton.

The sun is at its peak in the sky. The festival down below is loud and boisterous. There are guards stationed on every wall, on every dune, and every roof. Lord Uzumaki must be below.

Sasuke wonders if Naruto is as well. He feels like, after today, he’ll lose him. Sasuke will do something he never does: he'll pray.

There is the Goddess of Rebirth and while she does not look kindly on deserters, on cowards, she is all Sasuke has now. There is a shrine for her, built far up on the mountain cliffs. He doesn’t have much, just his mother’s sword, and he plans to pledge himself to her by its blade. If there is a war, if it is what she hungers for, then he has to be with Naruto through it.

He has to wait until night.

And then he can go.

Until then, he lets Karin hit his back like she’s beating a rug.

“Are you upset with me?” he asks and she stills before standing abruptly and throwing the rest of the aloe at him.

“No,” she snaps, face flushed, and when she continues to stare, glasses falling down the slender bridge of her nose, she deflates with a huff of frustration, “you don’t… you don’t show any interest.”

This part is whispered and Sasuke is grateful for it. He feels embarrassed himself, hot and sharp in his gut, and he’s fortunate that she is not looking at him. He could reach out, could take her hand in his and offer comfort. But that would be false, and a lie, and he cannot keep burying himself.

He is _fourteen_.

It is the time where most men begin to sleep around, begin to “sow their oats” before marriage. Not that marriage prevents men from wandering, but he is in his youth. This is what this time is for. Not– not whatever the fuck he’s doing.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Karin,” Sasuke says and stands, pocketing the jar of aloe and meeting her eyes despite the discomfort of it, “there are plenty of men who desire you.”

It’s not what she’s looking for, not at all, but it’s all he can say. She seems torn to accept it. She reaches for him, takes his wrist, and tries to tug him towards her. He isn’t sure what’s prompted this from her: if it’s the festival, if it’s the charge in the air, if it’s the knowledge that Naruto is of age and will bed and hopefully create a new vessel to be the next–

Sasuke takes his wrist back, rougher then he means to, and Karin’s face turns into a mask hard with shame and anger.

She stands as well, not as tall as Sasuke, but close. Her glasses flash, even in the low flame light of the stone hallway. Above them, the floorboards creak with dust and weight and dinner preparations.

Sasuke hates it all.

“Why don’t you want me?” she asks, voice hard. “You’re almost a man– you’re supposed to want me.”

Sasuke’s throat is tight. It feels like he’s just spit fire, done the signs wrong, and burned his tongue. He feels like he’s ten and trying to show his father that he won’t burn– that he isn’t flammable.

He is, though.

He realizes that now. He is so _so_ flammable and Naruto is too bright and too exuberant and Sasuke thinks that Naruto will burn him and he will be happy for it. 

“I have to go,” Sasuke says and tries to pass.

Karin doesn’t move to let him.

“Karin,” Sasuke tries.

“You haven’t even looked at the girls,” Karin continues, “you haven’t shown any interest.”

“Move,” Sasuke says.

“But you’re always sneaking off,” Karin pushes, “besides training and your chores you’re never here. Juugo and Suigetsu have noticed too. They think you’ve met a girl.”

“I won’t ask again,” Sasuke says, voice hard, “move, Karin.”

She seems indecisive. She doesn’t touch him again.

“Are you in love with someone?” she asks.

Sasuke is going to burn alive.

He pushes past her and doesn’t stop walking.

He feels– he isn’t sure how he feels. Flayed? Skinned? His back is still raw and tender, and he has to pull the linen of his shirt over the aloe. He can feel the fabric sticking to his spine. Every part of him is uncomfortable. He doesn’t think, he goes to his bed. The chambers are empty because everyone should be preparing the banquet hall.

Sasuke knows dinner for them will be soon and then they will be sent to clean the streets, sweep the terracotta stones of Uzushio, and Hinata Hyuuga will be made to look _divine_ –

Kusanagi sits, wrapped in cloth, beneath Sasuke’s mattress.

He has a moment, an inane, heady moment, where he contemplates picking her up and running.

He could run. He could leave.

This would be the time, no one would know.

No one would–

He drops the mattress.

He sits upon it.

An insurmountable time later the dinner bell rings and Sasuke doesn’t move. He just stares at the stones, at the night sky. He hears Juugo come in. The larger boy sits on Suigetsu’s bed. They both don’t speak for a long while.

“We’re to greet the Hyuuga’s,” Juugo tells him, “outside the palace’s gates. You’ll be exiled if you do not show.”

Sasuke doesn’t say anything. He can feel Kusanagi under him. He thinks of what his mother would do what she would tell him. She’d be disappointed that he is hiding.

“Sasuke,” Juggo says, quiet, “are you well?”

Sasuke stands. He hasn't met Juugo’s eyes yet. He needs to hide himself first.

“Lets go greet them, then,” Sasuke says and finally turns to Juugo.

He knows from practicing in mirrors that his expression belies nothing. Together they make their way through the palace’s basement halls and up into the fading pink sun.

+

There are stone steps, polished to be as white and shiny as pearls, that wind up the hill to the palace.

Sasuke will admit: they did a splendid job, made better because he had nothing to do with it.

The sky is pink and the ocean catches it. There are flowers laid across the sand, and fires that glow orange in the fading light. Sasuke stands with the other boys near the entrance to the basements. They have been given flower necklaces, braided with palm leaves by the girls.

Sasuke isn’t sure what this does. He still doesn’t think they look acceptable. He’s surprised they’re even able to be seen. But, Lord Minato has always wanted to keep the illusion that he is fair, and kind. Sasuke assumes he doesn’t want the Hyuuga’s to think Uzushio keeps children as slaves.

 _No,_ Sasuke thinks, _just child soldiers_. _Just cattle_.

This hasn’t bothered him before, but now he feels bitterness seeping in. Bitterness towards Lord Minato, who parades as jubilant and loving, and will let his son become a vessel and lay with someone he doesn’t want to lay with.

Sasuke closes his eyes because his vision is staining red.

He can hear the music from the streets below, can hear the processions as they begin to climb the pearl steps. There is singing, loud and exultant, and Sasuke can’t look away from the dancers who clear the way first. There are guards posted in every corner, every sand dune, every roof, their masks white and ominous in the fading light.

Sasuke can’t remember seeing this many before.

It makes sense: the Hyuuga’s are a paranoid clan, usually keeping their bloodline close. This is the first time they offered to accept someone from the outside.

 _Breathe_ , Sasuke tells himself, _breathe_.

When Sasuke sees the Norimono he forgets he has lungs. He is sure that everyone’s eyes go to Hinata Hyuuga first. Her face is covered in a lilac cloth, see-through and light in this climate, her white eyes barely visible through. Her jūnihitoe is beautiful– intricately layered, and Sasuke can’t fathom how she isn’t sweating beneath. Uzushio is warm, humid, and Konohagakure is not. He gets some form of pleasure knowing that she is not comfortable in this heat, sitting on cushions that have more comfort than Sasuke’s mattress. The Norimono is carried by four guards, one at each long pole, and their white masks are even more chilling against the soft details of the small platform. Anbu, probably. What Itachi was training to become.

What Konohagakure is known for.

Sasuke doesn’t linger on Hinata. He barely sees her.

His eyes focus on Naruto.

When is he ever not seeking out Naruto?

Naruto’s head is bowed, his gold hair catching the light.

He looks like fire.

He looks like stars.

His own clothing is much more simple than Hinata’s. Layered in linen, only four folds, Naruto looks breathtaking. Sasuke can’t see his eyes. He can’t and he aches to. Naruto is being carried up the steps, still small but moving closer and Sasuke has to bite his lip to keep himself from moving. Naruto’s ears are pierced, something Sasuke hadn’t noticed for Naruto had never drawn attention to it but yes– gold a turquoise covers his ears and Sasuke knows it will bring out his eyes, knows it compliments the darker pallor of his skin.

 _Look at me_ , Sasuke pleads, _please, look at me_.

Naruto’s hands are placed in his lap. Sasuke remembers his mother teaching him how to bow, how to sit. Naruto’s been trained almost in the manner that women are– more demur. Sasuke feels restless. He’s sweating– the aloe slick on his back, his hair matting to his forehead. He didn’t bathe like Kakashi had told him. He hadn’t done _anything_.

_Are you in love with someone?_

Karin’s question has been rattling in his skull. The Norimono climbs pearl steps.

_Look at me._

The white masks stare from the rooftops.

_Look at me._

The music is louder, and is building to a crescendo. Petals fall from baskets in the balconies above. The cooks are leaning out their windows.

Everyone wants to see the Hyuuga girl.

Everyone wants to see the jinchuuriki.

Naruto is _so_ close.

He is _so_ much closer.

The sky is red.

The ground is red.

 _Everyone_ is red but Sasuke is focused on–

_Look at me–_

Naruto raises his head. His eyes skim the crowd.

The Norimono creaks, the men holding it have to be hot, have to be tired, and Naruto is looking at him.

Naruto is looking at Sasuke.

And Sasuke stains him in red.

Sasuke will remember this moment _forever_.

He will remember the gold in Naruto’s hair. He will remember the linens on his dark skin, he will remember the gold paint on his cheeks, on his scars. He will remember the jewels, the turquoise–

He will remember Naruto.

Not Hinata.

Not a jinchuuriki.

Naruto.

Only, always, _Naruto_.

_Are you in love with someone?_

The Norimono is laid on the ground and Sasuke can no longer see them.

They are blocked by the crowd and guards and soon the palace’s warm stones. Sasuke feels a hand on his arm. Suigetsu is dragging him back.

“Your eyes,” he whispers, “what’s…”

Sasuke lets the white haired boy pull him away.

+

Suigetsu tries to follow him.

“You’re an Uchiha,” he says, awed and too loud, “you _have_ to be–”

Sasuke lifts his mattress and takes out Kusanagi.

“I can’t believe it,” Suigetsu prattles, “I– _shit_ , Sasuke, you could be anywhere! You could be elite, in Anbu, why are you h–”

“If you tell anyone I’ll slit your throat,” Sasuke says and pushes past him.

Suigetsu does not follow.

+

It is not dark yet.

Sasuke no longer cares.

The guards will not worry about a serving boy climbing to a temple. They will worry about the feast and consummation.

And Sasuke will do all he can to stop thinking about it.

He keeps his mother’s sword wrapped tight, held securely in his hand as he climbs the steep hill. It’s almost a mountain face, so jagged and full of sand and stones. The boys tell stories of nymphs in the woods, of how they will lure you into its depths and eat your heart.

Sasuke isn’t concerned about nymphs.

The temple is large and ornate. The gold is worn from decades of sand erosion. Still, it has been polished recently, kept nice and beautiful for the Goddess Kaguya.

Sasuke only ever went to the shrines for the Gods with his mother on days of festivals. The Uchiha gave thanks and blessings to the God of Fire.

Kaguya is known as many things: longevity, chaos, rebirth.

The Uzushio have been blessed and watched by her for as long as time. Supposedly, Kaguya gifts them with their longevity, with their penchant for healing and life. She has been told to bless lovers, to bless families. Sasuke isn’t sure if she will bless him, someone who has no family, no more ties with his only living brother.

He can only hope she does not smite him.

There are fresh flowers on the steps leading up to the shrine.

A goat was slaughtered here only hours earlier, the blood still congealing on the stone floors.

Sasuke feels his heart sink.

Naruto and Hinata may have already been blessed. He may be too late.

There is a cool breeze and it blows salt from the sea, mixes it in his hair and sticks to his skin. He tries not to think of Naruto down below, and what he is doing. He will be sick upon the bloodied floor. Instead, Sasuke unwraps Kusanagi. Her blade reflects the silver shine of the full moon.

She is a beautiful sword and Sasuke aches upon holding her again. He kneels in the blood and cuts his palm. He presses it to his heart and lets his shirt be stained.

“I bless and give myself to you,” Sasuke whispers, remembering how his mother used to instruct him on introductions, “if you will have me, I have a small wish.”

The wind blew and the sand wiped like a white grit over the stone beneath Sasuke’s knees. He can hear the waves beat against the shore. His neck prickles– he feels eyes on him but whether or not they’re celestial or human, Sasuke is not sure.

His heart is pounding against his palm. The wound pulses.

“I wish to serve Uzumaki Naruto,” Sasuke whispers, eyes trained on the stone, mixed with both his and an animal’s blood, “I wish… I wish to not leave his side.”

Everything becomes still.

Even the ocean seems to have calmed. There is no more wind. There is no more music.

Sasuke can’t hear anything but bells. Slowly, he raises his head. His Sharingan whirls to life. Before him, he only sees the silk white of robes. Pale feet stand in the blood before him, toes touching his knees. Sasuke knows that if he looks up he will see a Goddess.

He doesn’t not meet her gaze. His eyes will be burned from his skull.

“You are stained, Uchiha,” a voice whispers, deep in his head. His skin has broken out in gooseflesh. He feels impeccably light.

“I wish–” he begins but the being interrupts him.

“Who are you to ask me anything?” Kaguya speaks, and her voice is soft and chilled, “when you have no glory to your name? A deserter?”

Sasuke bows his head. He stares at her robes. He knows not to speak.

“You have never offered me anything before this day,” Kaguya says, “you Uchuhi pray only to my brother. What have you to give me?”

“Anything,” Sasuke says, “I will give you anything.”

The bells tinkle in the still air. The sand that had scattered across the stone rise above it. Sasuke stares, in awe, and realizes he is shaking. How could he not be in front of such a powerful being? It hits him then, that he is kneeling before a being as old as the stars. He does not dare to insult her.

“Anything,” she repeats and Sasuke feels his chin tipping up without his accord, and he squeezes his eyes shut as more of her comes into view, “look at me, _Uchiha_.”

She spits his name out like dirt.

Sasuke _can’t_.

He _can’t_ –

Fingers, long and cold, grip his jaw. They squeeze and the pain is sharp.

“I will not repeat myself, deserter,” Kaguya whispers.

Sasuke opens his eyes.

They do not burn.

Kaguya is staring at him, face as large as the walls. Her eyes reflect the entire landscape. Sasuke can see the ocean, he can see Lord Uzumaki’s palace. Her hand is large enough to wrap around his torso. Her thumb covers the width of his jaw, all the way to the back of his head. He is small and weak before her. She is a God. And what is he?

“Nothing,” Kaguya speaks, almond eyes as white as the Hyuuga’s, “you are nothing compared to me.”

Sasuke’s palm aches. He doesn’t move it from his chest.

“You wish to stay by the jinchuuriki’s side,” Kaguya says.

“Yes,” Sasuke says. “Through the war. Through it all. I–”

“You are foolish,” Kaguya tells him, “such a foolish child.”

“Yes,” Sasuke agrees.

“You would give yourself to someone who may not want you.”

Sasuke’s voice cracks, “yes.”

“I know why,” Kaguya tells him, “but you do not.”

Her thumb tightens on his jaw. Sasuke’s palm is _burning_ –

“I know myself,” Sasuke says and he isn’t sure why, he knows it isn’t smart to talk back, especially to a _God_ –

“You do not want him to sleep with the Hyuuga girl,” Kaguya says and laughs, mocking and loud, and the sand vibrates with it, “how petty. How simple you are.”

Sasuke flushes.

“I have nothing to lose here,” Kaguya tells him, “and I am bored. You will not be seperated from him, Uchiha.”

Sasuke feels the breath leave him.

He feels relief like he’s never known.

“And I will take your cursed eyes,” she continues, “whenever I desire.”

“Yes,” Sasuke agrees.

His sharingan has always been something to hide. He hasn’t ever viewed it as anything else besides a tool. He will not live long in a war. He will not live long so who is he to be greedy? Who is he to care? Take it, he wants to tell her, take every last bit of me. He will no longer be Uchiha then. He will just be Sasuke, he will just be a boy, he will just be–

( _Are you in love with someone?)_

His father had these eyes. His brother also.

Sasuke doesn’t want them. He only wants them to keep Naruto safe. After that, what is the point? After that–

“Well, little Uchiha,” Kaguya says and a smile twists her face into something cracked, “it is done.”

She leaves in a tinkle of bells and a blast of cold, cold air.

The sounds come back, slowly, and then all at once: the waves, the gulls, the cicadas, and screaming. There is screaming from down below, from the palace halls. Sasuke doesn’t think: he just acts. He moves so swiftly he almost slips on the blood. He dashes down the hill.

He can feel the earth in a way he hasn’t before. He can feel the people, the human’s around him. He can feel the ache behind his eyes, the red on the edges of his vision.

He knows that anyone can see his sharingan but if he is to eventually lose it, if he wants to be Naruto’s companion, then he doesn’t care who sees it.

Let them know he could crush them all.

He won’t be an Uchiha for much longer.

He had hid it because he wanted to run. He came to Uzushio because he wanted to run. And now he is running _back_.

He is tired of running away.

Perhaps it is the ache in his palms and eyes.

Perhaps it is the adrenaline of standing in front of a God and living.

Perhaps it is the knowledge that he could have lost Naruto today and he did not.

Whatever he feels is buried beneath the burning desire to fight.

To _move_.

He has never been in battle before. He’s never seen it. He has only seen the aftermath, the end result.

This will be different and as he looks to the skies he can feel Kaguya watching him.

The palace, when Sasuke comes upon it, is in disarray. The guards are nowhere to be seen, they are with the shouts from inside. Sasuke takes the small door to the basement and dips inside. He knows his way to the West Halls. He goes without thinking. He has to push the boys aside, all gathered as they are. Suigetsu calls out to him but Sasuke doesn’t even blink.

He must look a fright, covered in blood with eyes to match, because once people see him they _move_.

Kusanagi is vibrating in his cut palm. He’s never used her before. His blood is on her blade. She feels hungry. Sasuke takes the stone steps up to the dining hall. The tables are half messy with forgotten bread from dinner. There are platters on the floor.

A guard turns to Sasuke and meets his eyes. Sasuke knows this man, has seen him before. He is only a year or two older than Sasuke but he stares like he’s never seen Sasuke before.

Like he’s afraid of him.

 _Good_ , Sasuke thinks.

“Where is he?” Sasuke asks.

There’s commotion down the halls, yelling from all sides. A chakra spike in the village center and Sasuke feels it in the air. He can feel something building, hot, like an inferno. If he focuses, he can sense a weak chakra, flickering, subdued.

It’s unfamiliar and he thinks it’s Hinata’s.

He can’t feel Naruto.

It hits him.

He can’t feel _Naruto_.

Panic makes him cruel.

The guard isn’t answering fast enough. Kusanagi is against the young man’s throat in the next instant. The only sign that Sasuke had moved is a flutter of the crumbs on the floor.

“Where is he?” Sasuke repeats.

He’s being kind, all things considering. He is not slitting this incompetent guard’s throat.

“Who?” the young man asks and when he swallows Kusanagi draws a thin nick of blood.

“Naruto,” Sasuke says.

The man shows no recognition.

Sasuke’s grip tightens on the hilt.

“The jinchuuriki,” Sasuke snarls. “Naruto. Where is he?”

“I– I don’t–” Sasuke releases him and the man stumbles.

Sasuke is gone in a blur.

+

The West Halls are filled with commotion.

Sasuke can sense Lord Minato's chakra, flickering and fierce to the West. He’s in the city center. Sasuke feels Kushina, outside the palace, off by the walls but moving closer.

He follows Hinata’s.

His skin is buzzing and he’s itching to scratch it off. He barely registers the people around him. He knows he’s going into areas he isn’t allowed. He _knows_ , because people try to stop him.

Sasuke isn’t sure what he does to these people.

All he knows is that their hold is weak and he is not.

There is a door that has been broken off its hinges. Hinata’s chakra is beyond here.

Sasuke tears the rest away.

It’s not serving its purpose anyway.

This hallway is lit by sconces, the candles thick and melting wax along the walls. It’s hotter, the temperature is spiking. There’s scuffling below, some screaming and when Sasuke clears the steps the stone bends, curves, and he follows it, vision red.

He hears Hinata before he sees her, “please. I–I’m not one of them.”

And then Sasuke understands: the unfamiliar chakra, the one that’s as hot as fire, is Naruto.

It’s _Naruto_.

Unfamiliar, chaotic, Naruto.

The chamber Sasuke walks into is open and cavernous. There is a bed with white sheets. The edges are burned and still smoking. It is a room meant for lovers. Meant for consummation on a wedding night. It makes Sasuke sick to see. He wants to let it burn.

He wants to let Naruto burn it.

Hinata is on the other side, up against the wall. She is dressed simply but she _is_ dressed.

On the floor are seven of the anbu, throats slashed and blood melting into the cracks of the stone floor. It’s polished white, just like the steps outside, and the red is startling against it. A white room with a white bed and white sheets and Naruto, red and orange.

Naruto’s back is to him.

His chakra is all wrong.

It whirls around him like orange smoke, sparking from his skin, his hair, his hands. He is no longer in the fine garments that he wore on the Norimono.

He is bare, and his skin is almost glowing in the pristine room. Hinata looks like she may be sick. Sasuke is impressed. He steps into the room fully and finally Naruto turns to him. He looks wild. His gold hair is in disarray, matted with blood and sweat.

The marks on his cheeks are white, near glowing against his skin. And his eyes are as red as Sasuke’s.

Sasuke feels unsettled.

He does not feel like he is looking at his friend. Naruto doesn’t seem to recognize him.

Sasuke can’t help it– his eyes flit to the sealing tattoo on Naruto’s stomach.

He’s heard about it, of course he has, but it’s one thing to hear about it and another to see it.

Naruto always wore his shirt when they swam. Sasuke assumed it was because the sea has been cold but now he knows why. The tattoo is intricate and swirling. It’s unfairly distracting. Sasuke meets Naruto’s gaze. Naruto takes a step forward before his entire body shudders, _trembles_ , and then his knees buckle and the red turns to blue and Sasuke barely catches him before Naruto passes out.

He’s trembling as if he’s cold but his skin is burning, feverish, and Sasuke is selfish because he holds him closer.

Sasuke realizes he should probably try to talk to Hinata, to calm her, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t _care_ because Naruto’s face is against his neck and Naruto is resting on his chest and thighs and Naruto smells like smoke and feels like fire and Sasuke–

Sasuke–

There’s someone behind them and Sasuke moves without thinking.

Kusanagi is through the anbu's heart in a blink.

The white mask belies no emotion, shows no surprise, but the body jolts as though electrocuted before crippling.

There are five more nin that enter the room, all with those masks, all without village ownership or rank. Sasuke lays Naruto gently down.

“Get him a pillow,” he tells Hinata and hopes she moves.

 _He_ does.

Sasuke feels himself blur.

The anbu are strong and Sasuke has never been in a real battle. He lets his sharingan lead him.

There’s an aching behind his eyes, a warm pressure, and all he thinks, all he _knows_ , is that he must protect Naruto.

He _has_ to.

He _has_ to protect him.

Naruto, who takes the time to say his name.

Naruto, who is warm and real and kind.

Naruto, who told Sasuke that he was impressive, not because of his kekkei genkai but because he has _survived_.

He kills, and he kills, and he _kills_ , and all he thinks is: _Naruto_.

Sasuke moves up the staircase.

There are more anbu here.

He doesn’t think they’re Konoha. He knows they're not Uzushio.

He doesn’t care who they are, as long as they are dead.

He thinks he’s in the upper halls.

And then there is the sea.

And the sky, and his eyes are _burning_ –

“Sasuke,” Kakashi’s voice says but Sasuke can’t see him, he can’t see _anything_ anymore, there’s too much _red_ , “time to stop, kid.”

There’s a sharp hit to the back of his neck.

Something is staring at him.

A sharingan, bright with three tomoe’s.

And then nothing.

+

Sasuke wakes with a jolt.

His hand goes for Kusanagi but he can’t move it.

He can’t move his other arm either.

He’s tied down, he realizes. Tied down to a cot in a room so small he can’t imagine anyone sleeps here.

“Easy,” Kakashi says from where he’s leaning against the wall, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“Why am I tied up?” Sasuke asks, then, “Where’s Naruto? Is he–”

“He’s fine,” Kakashi says and pushes away from the stone to stand beside Sasuke’s right foot, which is also tied down, “what do you remember?”

Sasuke glances at the healed cut on his palm. He swallows and his throat is dry.

“Not much,” he lies.

Kakashi doesn’t belay anything. He just stares.

There’s a small window and Sasuke can see the early morning sun.

“What happened?” Sasuke asks, “I don’t have time–”

“For what?” Kakashi interrupts, clearly amused, “being restrained?”

“ _Why_ am I restrained?” Sasuke snaps.

“You killed thirty people,” Kakashi says and Sasuke stills, “anbu from the Hidden Mist. They’ve declared war, it seems. Tried to take the jinchuuriki.”

Sasuke feels his eyes swirl.

“You know his name,” Sasuke says, “use it.”

Kakashi isn’t listening to him, though. Instead the older man moves closer and bends down, blocking out the window and getting too close.

“Well, well,” Kakashi says, “would you look at that.”

+

Kakashi unties him and forces him to go into the washroom.

It’s small as well, with only a mirror and a wash basin. Sasuke feels disgusting. Every move cracks with dried fluid. He’s covered in rust. Kusanagi sits in the corner and Sasuke approaches her carefully. He picks her up. She’s been cleaned, and Sasuke can only assume that Kakashi had done it.

He’s starting to suspect these are Kakashi’s rooms.

 _No matter_ , Sasuke thinks, bone tired and exhausted, _no matter_.

He’s drawn to the mirror. He wants to see what Kakashi had, wants to see what made the other man untie him.

Sasuke pushes his bangs aside and stares.

He thinks of Karin’s question now.

What he feels for Naruto is not friendship. It is infatuation. It is a need, a desire, to always be around him, to always see him. To use his eyes to never, ever, forget Naruto’s smile.

Is that love?

The third tomoe stares back at him.

It is answer enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone is healthy and well during these tumultuous times. stay safe and i hope this acts as a pleasant distraction. 
> 
> xx


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Suigetsu told me,” Karin says. “About you.” 
> 
> “Suigetsu also fucks his pillow,” Sasuke points out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys!!! thank you so much for all your kind words and wonderful comments. really really appreciate it, keeps me motivated. stay safe and well. no warnings apply for this chapter (besides non-sexual nudity) 
> 
> +
> 
> this is unbeta'd so I'm sorry for any grammatical errors

Sasuke has only spoken to Lord Minato once. 

This is the second time. 

He’s still standing in Kakashi’s small rooms but he’s washed the blood off his skin, scrubbed until even the dried bits under his nails were clean. And then Kakashi had called for him and now here Sasuke is: standing in dirty clothes with damp skin in front of Uzushio’s ruler. He’s on his knees before he can overthink it. The stone is uncomfortable, as is everything in Sasuke’s life lately, and he drops his head so his gaze is rooted to the grimy floor. 

It’s not the time but he can’t help but think, _Gods, Kakashi, don’t you sweep?_

Sasuke’s mother would’ve had a fit if she’d seen the state of these stones.

“You’re an Uchiha,” Lord Minata says and his voice is always softer than Sasuke is 

expecting, kinder, “I sensed your chakra to be quite strong but this took me by surprise.”

He laughs then, light and amused, and Sasuke can’t for the life of him find the joke. 

Unless it’s him. 

That would make sense. 

“Do you know what you did, Sasuke Uchiha?” Lord Minato asks and Sasuke doesn’t raise his head. 

He’s already suspecting he’ll be exiled, perhaps beheaded. 

He thinks he killed Uzushio guards. He thinks he broke a lot of rules. He’s not allowed in the West Halls. And he’s not allowed around Naruto. Sasuke swallows. 

“I think,” he speaks, “I made a bit of a mess.” 

There’s a lengthy silence and then Minato laughs again before his gold rimmed boots come into view and Sasuke is now staring at the Yellow Flash’s toes. Sasuke didn’t know Lord Minato got the nickname because of the gold plating on his boots. The first person he wants to share this with is Naruto, which is ridiculous, because this is Naruto’s father. Naruto already knows. 

“Stand, Sasuke,” Lord Minato tells him. 

Sasuke does, stiffly. 

“Look at me,” Lord Minato says. 

_Look at me_ , Kaguya had hissed. 

_Look at me_ , Sasuke had begged. 

Sasuke meets blue eyes that are so, so familiar. 

“You’ve been around my son a lot,” Lord Minato says and his gaze, while gentle, is penetrating. Sasuke’s own eyes ache in response. 

“Yes, sir,” Sasuke admits. 

He can feel Kakashi’s presence at his shoulder, behind his back. He wonders if Kakashi will be the one to kill him. He wonders if it would be presumptuous to see Naruto one last time. 

“He likes you,” Lord Minato hums. “Said you treat him like he’s anyone else.”

Sasuke swallows, thick. 

“I–” _like him too_ , “I would wish to serve him, my Lord.” 

Lord Minato doesn’t speak for a long while. His gaze doesn’t stray. Slowly, he smiles. 

“Well Sasuke Uchiha,” he says, “show me your eyes.” 

Sasuke, reluctantly, does. Minato grips his jaw and holds him steady. 

“They’re real,” Sasuke assures. 

Minato laughs and lets him go. He steps back and says, “well. Hold out your left hand.” 

Sasuke wants to look at Kakashi for guidance but he doesn’t. He is not a child. Instead, he holds out his left hand, already scabbed with the cut to Kaguya. Lord Minato eyes it and pulls out a silver dagger of his own. For a terrifying moment, Sasuke thinks he’ll cut his hand off. 

The Lord simply drags the blade over the scab and Sasuke bites his tongue to stay silent. It’s sensitive, it _hurts_ , and when he looks up from the wound he sees Minato already watching him. 

“You are to pledge your life to my son,” Lord Minato says, his voice hard, “no one, no God, is above him. Do you understand?” 

Sasuke’s palm aches. 

“Yes,” he says.

+

The blood drips between Sasuke’s fingers. 

Lord Minato had left without another word, Sasuke’s blood staining his blade and the tips of his fingers. 

“C’mon, kid,” Kakashi sighs and begins to push Sasuke towards the door. 

“My sword–”

“I’ll keep it with me,” Kakashi interrupts smoothly, his grip tightening on Sasuke’s shoulder, “you weren’t allowed to have it anyway.” 

“It’s not yours to keep,” Sasuke hisses, “it’s mine by right–”

“Some things aren’t fair,” Kakashi talks over and begins to steer Sasuke outside, the sun high and hot in the sky, “I’ll keep it safe.” 

Sasuke shrugs Kakashi’s grip from him. He clenches his fist and hopes the bleeding stops. No one had offered him a bandage and he isn’t sure if that’s part of the tradition or if it stems from bitterness on Lord Minato’s part. 

Kakashi’s rooms were small because his house is small, made of stones and a thatched roof. It sits on the mountainside overlooking the palace and Uzushio’s city center. There’s a goat standing on the sloping grass to their left. It doesn’t spare them much attention when they pass. 

“I thought you’d have a bigger home,” Sasuke says, “being the Lord’s advisor and all.” 

Kakashi shrugs, unbothered. 

“Didn’t want one,” he says, not rising to Sasuke’s childish jab, “this is more than enough for me and Lucy.” 

Sasuke glances at the goat. 

He hopes it isn’t Lucy. 

+

  
  


Sasuke expects Kakashi to walk him back to his cot in the basement, where it’s cool and sticky, and bid him good day.

Kakashi does not walk him underground.

Instead, they climb the steps and through the empty dining hall, and the route is only familiar because Sasuke had taken it the night before. 

The guards' eyes follow him as they move and it makes his skin prick, makes him even more on edge than before. Two cleaning girls scrub the floors with water and soap, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, and they stare as Sasuke passes. 

Kakashi hums, not breaking his stride when the corridor curves and they climb another steep set of stairs. Sasuke glances out the open windows, the sea glinting and beautiful against a blue, blue sky. He can smell the salt in the air, can feel it on his skin. How long has it been since he swam? He misses it. 

He misses Naruto. 

No one has told him where Naruto is. 

Kakashi has only ever changed the subject when Sasuke has asked. 

Sasuke isn’t sure why it should be kept a secret– unless Naruto has been sent away and Sasuke has to remain. He’d run then, surely. He’d leave. If Itachi is still alive Sasuke could find him. But there’s a part of Sasuke that believes Itachi died that night with his clan, even though Sasuke couldn’t find a body. It’s hard for him to understand that his older brother would leave him to die.

It’s hard to think of it at all. 

There are sigils carved into the stone here, and the stairs have opened up to a wide hallway. It’s open and light, and two guards stand outside large double doors. 

“Morning,” Kakashi tells them with a sloppy wave and they step aside to let Kakashi through. Their focus is on Sasuke anyway. 

It makes him feel rather proud– to know that he shook everyone so badly. 

The double doors open inward and Kakashi stands to the side as Sasuke steps in. It’s a beautiful room with floor to ceiling windows. There are no glass panes in Uzushio, only curtains, and these are white and pulled to the side. They’re nearly translucent to let in the breeze and this room is not as humid as the hallways.

There is one large bed, white as the curtains, and scrolls stacked around its sides. It looks like a room that’s barely been lived in, but Sasuke thinks the cleaning girls have a hand in that. 

And then he notices his cot, pushed up against the far wall near a wash basin and vanity, carved from beach wood and polished to a shine. It throws him off, to see his dirty mattress in a room so spotless, and he turns to Kakashi with a high raise of his eyebrows. 

“Are you really that surprised?” Kakashi asks, closing the double doors and stepping to join Sasuke in the middle of the room. 

“This…is Naruto’s room.” 

Sasuke can’t see his mouth but he knows Kakashi is smiling. He’s feeling too many conflicting emotions, a rush of too many things–

“I– Kakashi, why–” 

He swallows his own words. He sounds like a little kid. He’s flustered, and he hates that Kakashi can tell. He turns away, tries to breathe. He woke up this morning tied down, then thinking he’d be exiled or killed, and now–

He’s in the West Hall. 

Naruto’s chakra permeates every crack in this room, every cloth, every wrinkle, and Sasuke can _feel_ it, he can feel it so _acutely–_

“You’re reactive to him, did you notice?” Kakashi asks, lowering his voice and moving towards the balcony. Sasuke follows, overwhelmed. “I can sense Naruto’s chakra because I’ve been trained to. And it’s immense. But I don’t feel the residue of it, no one can. You’re reacting like Naruto is with us now.” 

Sasuke’s face feels like it’s on fire. 

He doesn’t answer. 

There’s a table out here, with two wooden chairs and white cushions, the balcony filled with succulents and cacti. Kakashi sits down and, hesitantly, Sasuke does the same. The breeze is stronger here, the waves louder, and Sasuke stares down at the city center and can just make out the lasting remains of the celebrations yesterday. 

“The Hyuuga’s left after the attack,” Kakashi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm, “Lord Minato has gone to Konohagakure.”

Sasuke’s heart is racing. 

“Is the marriage annulled?” he asks. 

Kakashi just stares at him, for a long, long while. 

“No,” he says, slowly, “but this is where Uzushio stands: someone tried to take the jinchuuriki. If the nin acted independently from a village then we strengthen our defense. If they were sent by order then it is war.” 

Sasuke expected this. Now, it’s a waiting game. He turns to face the sea once more. Time feels too short. 

“And Hinata?” Sasuke dares ask, “Has she laid with Naruto?” 

There’s a poignant silence before Kakashi speaks. 

“No,” Kakashi says, “their coupling will have to wait until our land is more secure.” 

Sasuke can read between the lines. 

“You think the Hyuuga’s sabotaged the ceremony,” Sasuke points out. 

Kakashi is, as always, impossible to read. 

“Perhaps,” the older man allows. 

“Why?” Sasuke asks. “There would be no need. They’d have power and an ally.” 

“Sometimes people act independently from their own clans,” Kakashi says, and his gaze is piercing, “sometimes, people prefer to cater to their own honor.”

  
  


+

Kakashi leaves soon after. 

He doesn’t tell Sasuke about what he should be doing, or where he should be going. Instead he says “ta” and disappears and Sasuke is left standing in the middle of Naruto’s bed chambers. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. There’s nothing to inspect, not really.

There’s a wooden trunk, mahogany and not Uzushio made, and Sasuke opens it to see where Naruto keeps his tunics and trousers. Sasuke has the inane urge to feel them, to run his hands over the expensive fabric, but he shuts the lid before the desire grows any stronger. 

The bed looks comfortable, he’s sure the pillows are stuffed with the finest cotton and feathers, and the sheets are linen and breathable. Sasuke can still sense the guards in front of the door. He goes to the balcony and looks down. He can jump from the rails to the wall surrounding Uzushio, and then he can climb below, through town, over the sand dunes, and to the sea.

Or, if he doesn’t mind the longer walk, cut around town and wander over the dunes.

The sun is high in the air. Sasuke can hear the boys in the training yard. He hasn’t seen Suigetsu since last night and he dreads meeting the white haired boy again. Suigetsu had noticed the sharingan. Sasuke had been foolish in his emotions, in his naivety. He needs to be more careful. 

He’s been too transparent with his feelings. 

He needs to _bury_ them. 

He takes one last look around the room and leaps from the balcony, over the stone wall, and into the dunes below. 

+

The sea is warm from the sun and Sasuke spends his day here. 

His clothes are covered in sand, his skin sticky with the salt and climate, and he knows his hair is more frizz than shine. His mother had straight hair and Sasuke’s is only able to get a slight wave from the sea. He swims out to the rocks Naruto had shown him. He lounges in the sun despite his already burnt back. 

He floats in the deep and lets the fish pick at his dead skin. 

He isn’t sure of his routine here. 

No one had told him, and he can’t feel Naruto anywhere nearby. 

Sasuke closes his eyes against the sun. 

He floats. 

He tries to think. 

He tries to come up with a plan. 

He tries, but the sun is hot and the water is warm and he is floating so peaceful–

He opens his eyes because someone is staring at him. 

A woman, with long dark hair and coal black eyes. 

Sasuke flounders and her hands hold him against the rocks. They’re slippery on his back with algae and seaweed and this woman seems to be naked, pale and slimy in the dark water near the shore. 

“You floated too far human,” the woman says. 

Sasuke’s mouth is dry from dehydration. He tries to swallow anyway. The woman tilts her head. Gills are deep into her neck, her fingers webbed. A sea nymph, Sasuke assumes, and he stays perfectly still. 

“There’s been talk of you,” the nymph says, “you made a deal with the great mother.” 

Sasuke blinks. 

“Kaguya?” Sasuke asks. 

The nymph smiles. Her teeth are rows, overlapping and sharp. 

“She’s watching you,” the nymph tells him, “careful of the people on the other shores.” 

The nymph slips under the waves and is gone in a shimmer. Sasuke can barely process it. He’s never heard much about sea nymphs, knows only what his mother had told him as bedtime stories. They’re not Gods, but messengers. Sea nymphs are gossips, and live away from humankind.

Sasuke isn’t sure if this is Kaguya communicating a warning to him, or if he really had drifted too far. The sun is low in the sky and his muscles are sore from swimming. He pulls himself up onto the rocks, channels his chakra so he doesn’t slip. It’s good practice, and he makes his way to the shore, pushing his hair out of his face and looking down at himself. He had discarded his tunic, only dressed in his shorts, and he knows this isn’t the best way to present himself as Naruto’s companion. 

It hits him, suddenly, what that title means. 

He climbs over the dunes. His tunic has long since dried on the slopes and he puts it on with a shiver. The air is cool now, the wind harsh, and he hunches his shoulders and makes his way across the uneven terrain. He clears the palace walls easily, and the guards gazes follow him all the while. They let him pass though, and Sasuke goes in through a proper door, not leaping up onto Naruto’s balcony. 

It wouldn’t look great, Sasuke thinks, for him to show that poor etiquette. 

He was raised as an Uchiha. He channels that heritage now. 

Sasuke takes the main door into the palace and immediately realizes how he must look: wet, covered in half the beach, with skin burned redder than any tomato. 

Still, he holds his head up and lets his bare feet slap against the stones. 

He knows his way to Naruto’s room by heart. He can feel Naruto’s chakra through the stones, alongside Kushina’s. He hesitates by the foot of the winding stairs. Perhaps he shouldn’t go up. Perhaps there are rules he is not privy to. But the last time he’d seen Naruto he had been bloody and half gone and so Sasuke climbs the stairs two at a time. The guards at the door are different men than the ones this morning. They study Sasuke before letting him pass. 

Sasuke had heard Kushina and Naruto talking on the floor below, they’re both loud with louder chakra signatures, and when the doors swing inward they both stop mid-sentence to turn and stare. 

Sasuke bows before he can look at Naruto. 

His heart is beating so hard he can feel it against his ribs. 

“My apologies, if I’m intruding,” he says, falling back on old manners, falling back on stoicism, “I can come back–”

The words leave him in a rush as tan arms wrap around his shoulders and Naruto barrels into him with all his strength. Sasuke has to use his chakra to keep himself standing upright. Sasuke didn’t mean to rise from his bow but Naruto forces him up, grip tight around Sasuke’s neck. 

Sasuke knows he must look surprised. 

He _is_ surprised. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he was hugged. 

“I thought you left,” Naruto tells him, words muffled into Sasuke’s salty tunic, “I thought you were gone.” 

Naruto’s chest is pressed flush against his. 

Sasuke can feel Naruto’s heart pounding. 

He wonders if Naruto can feel his. 

Sasuke swallows, shivering with nerves and emotion. He wants to hug back. 

He doesn’t. 

Naruto pulls away a few breaths later but keeps his grip on Sasuke’s upper arms. Sasuke can’t help it: he stares. Naruto looks as he has always– shining, beautiful, and bloodless.

He is exuberance wrapped inside linen. 

He is all that Sasuke fears. 

He is _alive_. 

Everything Sasuke has done, every mistake he’s ever made, is suddenly worth this moment. 

“No,” Sasuke says and his voice is rough, “I wouldn’t.” 

Naruto’s smile is contagious. 

“He’s been by the ocean, looks like,” Kushina speaks and Sasuke immediately tries to bow again but now she is the one who won’t let him, “rise, Sasuke. No need for those kinds of formalities.” 

“Your Grace,” he greets but she just clicks her tongue and comes over to him in a huff. 

“You’ve got sand everywhere,” she admonishes and begins to pat him down, “look at you! Sunburnt! You _are_ a Northerner.” 

Sasuke flushes under the attention. 

Only his mother fussed over him like this. 

“You need a bath,” Kushina continues, “and clean clothes. And then dinner.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Sasuke says and his voice cracks. 

“Your hair’s all frizzy,” Naruto tells him, reaching out and pulling Sasuke’s hair, “don’t you use oils?” 

Sasuke is overwhelmed. 

“No,” he says. It’s all he can say. 

“Right, well,” Kushina clicks her tongue again, “this won’t do, ya know? Naruto, get him one of yours.” 

Naruto makes his way over to his wooden trunk and opens it, digging around for spare clothes. Sasuke flushes. 

“That’s not necessary,” he tries but Kushina and Naruto aren’t listening. 

“There’s a washroom through that door,” Kushina says, “go freshen up. The green jar is coconut oil, put a little in your hair. Or don’t maybe it’s too heavy for you.” 

She rubs his head like he is her child. Like he is a kid. 

He is _not_ a kid. 

He is _not_ her child. 

But he does not move away. Instead, he stands stiffly, and lets Naruto pass him clean clothes. This would not be expected in his clan, in Konohagakure, but Uzushio is different and keeps proving itself to be independent of custom traditions. 

“I’m going to dinner,” Kushina says, “I’ll have food brought to you. No leaving this room. I’ll know if you do.” 

She presses a loud, smacking kiss to Naruto’s head and then leaves, the double doors slamming shut behind her. It’s just Naruto and Sasuke, left in her whirlwind.

Naruto is still fucking smiling. 

“I’ll go then,” Sasuke says and begins to make his way to the adjacent room before Naruto reaches out and takes his elbow, gently, but Naruto has enough power to simply breathe and Sasuke will freeze. 

“Are you okay?” Naruto asks and Sasuke steps away. 

“I should be asking you that,” Sasuke tells him, “I’m meant to serve you.” 

Naruto’s nose wrinkles. 

“No you’re not,” he argues. 

Sasuke suppresses rolling his eyes. 

“That’s what a companion _means_ , Naruto,” Sasuke says. 

Naruto crosses his arms, his hair a wavy mess in the heat. 

“It means we’re friends,” Naruto points out, “that’s what it means.” 

Sasuke remembers their first swim together. He remembers Naruto saying that if he won, Sasuke would have to play with him again. 

“I’ve told you before, idiot,” Sasuke says, “you don’t need tricks for me to want to be your friend. I’m that, and I’m here. Don’t make it weird.” 

Naruto stares at him, eyes impossibly blue. Sasuke isn’t sure how he ever thought Lord Minato and Naruto’s eyes were similar. Naruto’s is much more exuberant. Much more alive. 

_Beautiful_ , Sasuke thinks. 

“I’m going to take a bath,” Sasuke tells him, “unless you’d rather stay and talk some more about our feelings?” 

Naruto’s grin is toothy. His cheeks are ruddy. 

“Go on then,” Naruto says, “no need to be a bastard about it.” 

Sasuke’s lips twitch. 

It takes everything he has to not reach out and touch Naruto. Instead he holds the tunic tighter and disappears into the washroom, where he spends too long scrubbing the sand from his hair. 

+

Naruto is sitting on the balcony in only his trousers when Sasuke finds him. 

He’s not as thin as Sasuke but he still holds his childhood roundness, on the cusps of manhood but not quite there. Sasuke sits before him, cross legged on the ground since Naruto seems to not want anything to do with the table and chairs. 

“I’m not allowed to leave my room you know,” Naruto says and lays back, stretching out so his legs dangle through the space between the railing’s bars, “since someone tried to kill me.” 

Sasuke stares, unnerved by the flippancy in Naruto’s tone. 

“They didn’t,” Sasuke says, “I wouldn’t let them.” 

“I know,” Naruto sighs, eyes closing, “your eyes were red.” 

“I’m working on it,” Sasuke snaps. 

Oddly enough Naruto laughs. 

“It was kind of cool,” he soothes, and peeks one eye open to stare at Sasuke in the fading pink light, “your Sharingan I mean.” 

Sasuke doesn’t feel annoyed like he usually does when Kakashi mentions his eyes. Instead he feels a sense of pride, a puffing warmth in his chest. 

“Hn,” Sasuke hums, not knowing what else to say. 

Naruto is still staring but now his gaze drifts to the town below. Sasuke watches Naruto. 

“You weren’t hurt then,” Sasuke says. 

Naruto shrugs.

“Nah,” he sighs, “I heal fast.” 

“So you _were_ hurt,” Sasuke points out, chest tight, “where–”

“I’m fine, Sasuke,” Naruto says and turns to face him, “really.” 

“You killed seven anbu,” Sasuke says and Naruto’s expression shutters, “do you remember?”

“Yes,” Naruto answers, and then, quiet, “do you hate me for it?” 

Sasuke is caught off guard. 

“What?” 

“Do you hate me?” Naruto pushes, eyes wide, “I didn’t– I don’t like killing. I didn’t mean to– I barely remember–”

“Breathe,” Sasuke interrupts, “it’s not a big deal.” 

This only seems to rile Naruto up further. 

“It is!” Naruto hisses, rising to his knees and making Sasuke tilt his chin up to stare at him, “I _killed_ –”

“We’re _warriors_!” Sasuke snaps, his own irritation sparking, “that’s what _we_ do.” 

“Well _I_ don’t want it,” Naruto argues, “I don’t want–”

“You defended yourself,” Sasuke says, “that’s a just cause.” 

Naruto’s lip trembles. 

“Do you like it?” he asks. 

Sasuke stalls. 

“Like what?” 

“Killing,” Naruto whispers, “do you like killing?” 

How does Sasuke say "yes" without sounding psychotic? 

He’s _supposed_ to like it. He _did_ like it. He liked killing those that would hurt Naruto. He liked having a purpose. 

He liked feeling powerful. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sasuke tells him and it’s the truth, “I’m here to protect you.” 

Somehow this only makes Naruto wilder. 

“That’s not – _dammit_ , Sasuke, I’m asking if you–” 

There’s a knock on the door, three sharp raps and Naruto cuts himself off, cheeks flushed and hands balled into fists. 

“Forget it,” he snaps and stands.

Sasuke is before him in an instant. 

“I’ll get the door.” 

Naruto rolls his eyes, “Sasuke, I can answer–” 

“Let me.” 

Naruto studies his face and must find something appeasing because he relents, tossing his hands up and turning to go back to the balcony. Sasuke must admit, this isn’t how he imagined their conversation to go. He hadn’t meant to make Naruto angry, and he hadn’t anticipated how easily Naruto could rile him up. 

He lets out a breath and opens the doors. 

Karin stares back at him. 

“Oh,” she says, “you’re kidding.” 

“Evening, Karin,” Sasuke greets and notices the tray piled high with food, “this is for Naruto?” 

She seems to get herself together. 

“Yes,” she confirms, “I… bring him dinner.” 

“Right.” 

“I need to come in.” 

“I’ll take it,” Sasuke says.

Karin’s jaw tenses. The two guards watch them silently. 

“Are you staying here now?” Karin asks. 

Sasuke doesn’t answer, just holds out his hand. Her grip on the tray tightens. 

“Suigetsu told me,” Karin says. “About you.” 

Sasuke feels ice, sharp and swift, stab his gut. He is proud in the knowledge that his expression doesn’t change. 

“Suigetsu also fucks his pillow,” Sasuke points out, “the tray, Karin.” 

He won’t ask again. His tone must show that because Karin hands him the tray without another word. She looks like she wants to say more but holds her tongue, eyes sharp, before she turns on her heel and walks back down the hall. Sasuke closes the doors. When he turns Naruto is still on the balcony, his legs through the gaps in the rails this time. 

Sasuke isn’t sure how he’s feeling.

Uneasy? Grateful? 

He’s never made a deal with a God before. He hopes Kaguya doesn’t think her part is complete and decides to come for him soon. He just got this. He doesn’t want to lose it. 

He joins Naruto on the balcony and sets the tray between them. He assumes it’s just for Naruto and that’s fine, he’s used to not eating much with all the boys hunkering for dinner, but Naruto looks to him after the first few bites and says, mouth full, “don’t you want some?” 

They eat together as the sun sets and Sasuke feels content in the knowledge that the Hyuuga’s are no longer in Uzushio. 

+

Night is strange. 

Sasuke isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing. 

Naruto is preparing for bed, washing his face and hands in the washroom, and Sasuke is standing before his thin mattress and not knowing what to do. A lot has happened in the span of two days and Sasuke is just now feeling the exhaustion of it. Naruto is loud washing up, as he is in most things, and he comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing, skin bare and darker in the light of the moon.

All the boys sleep naked here, and it took some getting used to, but Sasuke’s never had to get used to _Naruto_ being naked. 

_We're friends_ , he reasons, _there’s nothing strange. There’s nothing to be nervous of._

He will keep telling himself this even if it hurts. 

He is Naruto’s companion, first and foremost. Kakashi had him swear with blood, the same hand that he had used to pledge his oath to Kaguya. 

He is a man made of oaths. 

He isn’t sure how many he’s allowed to have. 

Naruto was quiet during dinner but he perked right back up, talking loudly and animatedly and Sasuke realized that Naruto was trying to cover any unease with his voice. Sasuke peels his tunic off and just to stall longer takes his time washing his face in the adjacent room.

His heart is hammering. 

His hands are shaking. 

“ _Stop_ ,” he has to tell himself, low enough that no one can hear, “you’ve seen battle. This isn’t scarier than that.” 

It is though, because while battle was many things it didn’t make Sasuke feel this vulnerable. He wishes, fervently, that he was attracted to the girls. He wishes he felt the same draw to Karin that he does to Naruto. It would be so much easier that way. It would be so _easy–_

It is not strange for boys to experiment with each other at their age. 

It is strange for them to harbor any feelings other than lust. 

Sasuke splashes his face again, just to get rid of his flush. He’s pale, even in the dark Naruto might be able to tell. 

“Sasuke you okay!” Naruto shouts, too loud and too bold, “Did you forget how bathing works?” 

“Shut up,” Sasuke grumbles and Naruto’s laugh makes his chest tight. 

He’s an Uchiha. 

He’s a Sharingan holder. 

He stood in front of a _God_. 

He can go back to Naruto. 

Sasuke takes one more stealing breath before leaving the washroom. He takes off his pants without looking away from the floor and climbs onto his bed without a word. The old frame creaks as he shifts but he lays on his back and doesn’t move again.

The curtains are open and a breeze drifts in from the sea, salty and cool. 

Sasuke is hyper aware of how flat his mattress feels without Kusanagi beneath him. It puts him even more on edge. 

“ _Psst_ , Sasuke,” Naruto whispers and Sasuke turns his head to see Naruto propped up on his elbow, staring down at him, “did you ever hear the story of Indra?” 

Sasuke blinks in the dark. 

“You mean Indra _and_ Asura,” he corrects and Naruto’s smile widens. 

“I don’t know much of Asura,” Naruto admits, sounding almost thoughtful, “why don’t you tell me about him.” 

Sasuke stares, amused despite himself. 

“If you’ve heard Indra you’ve heard of Asura,” he says, “they can’t exist without the other.” 

Naruto shifts back onto his back, hiding a large yawn in the crook of his elbow. 

“Try me,” Naruto says. 

It should annoy Sasuke, how demanding Naruto is. It doesn’t. Sasuke stares up at the ceiling too, at the gold stars that are painted above their heads. He wonders if Naruto can teach him about astrology.

The Uchiha’s were never big on constellations. 

“They were both born from the Goddess Kaguya,” Sasuke says, and his voice is loud in the dark, “they discovered the writings of _ninshu–_ “Great Power”. Indra covered it effortlessly, and Asura struggled. The next day the two fished together, Indra catching a big fish and Asura only getting a piece of driftwood. Indra transforms the driftwood into a fish, and shows his talent at manipulating chakra.” 

“I heard they were hunting boars,” Naruto says, “out by the Land of Wind.” 

“Wherever they were Indra showed his talent,” Sasuke says, “that’s what started it all.” 

“My mother doesn’t remember the war,” Naruto whispers and Sasuke hears him shift in his bed, “she was only two. She said her mother told her all the Gods were present at the end.” 

Sasuke scoffs.

“The Gods were only present to bet on a winner. It’s why the fighting lasted so long,” he says, “they don’t truly care about us.” 

Naruto sits up, the motion so jarring that Sasuke’s eyes are drawn to him. He had meant to not stare but Naruto is stark against the moon, against the white sheets and blue light, that Sasuke can’t help it. 

“They helped build all of this,” Naruto tells him, “Kaguya built Uzushio alongside Hachiman.” 

Sasuke’s lip curls. 

“And the Uchiha were supposed to be protected by Amateresu and her sister Tsukuyomi and we were still slaughtered,” Sasuke spits. “My mother prayed to them every morning and every night. And still they let her die.” 

_They let her die_ , Sasuke thinks, _and it wasn’t even by someone else's hand. They made her own body kill her._

Naruto’s mouth snaps closed. He looks sheepish, contrite. 

“Sasuke, I didn’t mean–” 

“The _Kami_ don’t care, Naruto,” Sasuke interrupts, turning his back to the other boy, “they only care about their games and if they’ll win.” 

Naruto is quiet for a long, long while. Eventually, when he speaks, his tone is soft. 

“I believe there is good in the Gods,” Naruto whispers, “just like there is good in people, and bad in others.” 

Sasuke doesn’t want to hear this. 

“Go to sleep, Naruto.” 

“I’m only trying to say that not one thing is all good and all bad.” 

Sasuke snorts. 

“Then you’ve never seen a massacre,” Sasuke says. 

Thankfully, Naruto doesn’t respond. 

Sasuke doesn’t sleep. Instead, he thinks of Asura and Indra. He thinks of how they were torn apart on their own beliefs between good and bad, between humans and Gods.

Sasuke lays awake, and he thinks that perhaps if there were no such things as Gods, if there was no such thing as power or jutsus, then perhaps his mother would still be alive, and Itachi not gone. 

+

The days pass in blurs. 

Sasuke and Naruto wake up together, eat together, and then Naruto excuses himself to meet his mother for training. The days are Sasuke’s own. Kakashi doesn’t seek him out and Sasuke can’t find him. He doesn’t feel comfortable going to the training grounds with the other boys. He doesn’t think he’ll be welcome, and the idea of seeing Suigetsu or Karin fills him with dread. 

He swims. 

He doesn’t see the Sea Nymph again. 

On the sixth day Naruto joins him. 

“I’ll race you,” Naruto says and Sasuke is only distracted by his smile for a moment. 

They lay on the rocks again, slick with seaweed. Naruto warms Sasuke’s fingers with his chakra, orange even in the daylight. Sasuke remembers when Naruto first did this, when Naruto had looked up at him and said, “cool, isn’t it?” 

It had been, when Naruto and Sasuke didn’t have blood on their hands. 

“My father’s been in Konoha,” Naruto tells him while they catch their breath, arms and legs sore, “I’m not sure what for.” 

Sasuke doesn’t say anything. He wants Naruto to keep his peace for as long as he can. 

Instead, he says, “I’ll race you,” and doesn’t wait for Naruto to answer before diving back into the waves. 

+

It’s dark when Sasuke has a nightmare. 

He’s back in his old home but it’s melting, the wood dripping like wax to pool at his feet. All he smells is blood. All he sees is red. 

And then Itachi, standing with his back to him. 

Sasuke says, “what’s going on?” 

Itachi answers without opening his mouth, “people are after the jinchuuriki.” 

He turns then. 

He has no eyes. 

“Sleep, little brother.” 

Sasuke wakes with a choked sob and tears sticking to his hair. His chest is tight, he can’t get in enough air. He doesn’t bother being quiet: he can’t control anything. He hasn’t had a nightmare in a long while and this one _hurts–_

“Sasuke,” Naruto whispers and his soft hands are pushing Sasuke’s hair off his forehead, “it’s okay.” 

Sasuke would be embarrassed if he could _breathe_ –

“I got you,” Naruto says, voice low and gentle, and he pulls Sasuke against the warm skin of his chest, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, either.” 

Sasuke’s lips are trembling. He doesn’t care that they’re both naked. He focuses on Naruto’s heart, steady beneath his ear. He’ll pretend, in the light of the day, that this never happened. For now, under the comfort of night, he lets himself be vulnerable. Naruto gathers the blankets, creates a shawl around Sasuke with them. 

“You’re shivering,” Naruto says and tries to warm him with his chakra, “come on.”

Sasuke is afraid of what he’ll sound like if he speaks. He wants to push Naruto away. He wants Naruto closer. 

Regardless of what he wants he lets Naruto steer him to his bed and gets Sasuke settled in the sheets. The mattress is ungodly soft. The linen is fresh and breathable. Sasuke already feels better, feels tired and not terrified. When Naruto starts to pull away Sasuke stops him. He doesn’t look at Naruto, focuses on the window and the sea beyond. 

“Don’t,” he whispers and hates how his voice cracks. 

Naruto doesn’t ask him to elaborate. Sasuke wouldn’t anyway. 

Instead, Naruto slides into bed beside Sasuke, a foot between them but Sasuke is able to feel the heat coming off Naruto’s skin. He falls asleep with Naruto’s eyes on him. 

+

Kakashi trains him the next day. 

“No Sharingan,” the older nin says, and Sasuke is still caught on the fact that Kakashi has a goat named Lucy. 

+

Kushina is loud. 

Louder than Naruto, louder than Uzushio’s bells, and louder than the thunder rumbling beyond the dunes. Lightning strikes the sea and Sasuke thinks of _Raijin_ , the God of Storms. Perhaps he is unsettled. 

“It’s a whole celebration ya know!” Kushina says, her voice echoing around the stone chamber. 

Sasuke has never been this far into the East Hall. 

It is where Lord Minato and Lady Kushina reside, their bedroom vast and sprawling with dying plants and cacti. There is cat hair on everything even though Sasuke has yet to see a cat. He can see the storm, however, dark and ominous on the horizon. Lord Minato arrived only a while ago, tired from his trip, but he managed to greet Kushina as grandly as he always does.

He is sitting on a floor pillow, soft, but not softer than the couch Naruto is sprawled upon. He keeps playing with Sasuke’s hair and Sasuke has to keep swatting his touch away. Lord Minato has not told them about his trip and Sasuke doesn’t expect him too. He isn’t sure why he’s even here, besides for the fact that Naruto asked for him to join. 

Maybe Naruto just wanted someone to annoy. 

Sasuke wonders if he’d be exiled for disabling Naruto’s chakra points. 

“I know, my love,” Minato sighs, resting his head in his hands with a weary sigh, “but after the attacks I’m not sure the usual festivities would be wise.” 

Kushina crosses her arms, her long red hair pulled back off the nape of her neck. 

“It’s for the _Gods_ ,” she says, “you would risk angering them?” 

“I would to protect my people,” Minato answers, raising his eyes, “I would to protect _you_.” 

Naruto is still pulling Sasuke’s hair but it’s turned more gentle, becomes more like a massage than anything else, and Sasuke tilts his head back, just a bit. 

“This will insure our protection,” Kushina pushes, “please, Minato. It is one night. We will have all our guards present. Naruto has Sasuke. Kakashi can oversee them.” 

Sasuke catches Minato’s gaze and is suddenly embarrassed by Naruto’s touch. He straightens and Naruto’s hands fall away. 

“What are you talking about?” Naruto asks, shifting so he’s sitting up, “Is this for the festival tomorrow?” 

“For rebirth,” Kushina says, “Sasuke did your clan participate?” 

“Our God was not Kaguya,” he answers stiffly, “ours was in the fall, to Amateresu and Tsukuyomi.” 

“Ah,” Minato hums, thoughtful, “the Gods of Sun and Moon.” 

“Yes,” Sasuke confirms. He doesn’t comment on the irony. 

“Please, Minato,” Kushina urges, “one last festival. One last gathering.” 

Sasuke catches her words and holds on to them, plays them over and over. 

_Last gathering._

_Last_. 

Minato seems swayed and he sighs, leaning back in his wooden chair and giving his wife a tired, indulgent smile. 

“As you wish,” he says. 

+

The festival is, as anything with Uzushio, grand. 

The streets are painted gold. Fish, fat and red, are stacked high on alters throughout the palace halls. The temple for Kaguya is being visited frequently, with a line waiting to proceed and offer their gifts. The colors for Kaguya are purple and gold, and Kushina lines Naruto’s room in silks to match. She dresses him as well, in beautiful expensive throws, in jewelry, and Sasuke watches and aches. 

He just aches. 

Naruto is not allowed to leave the palace. 

They watch the proceedings from the high tower in the West Halls, and Kushina gives them each an orange dipped gold as an offer to Kaguya before they eat. Sasuke had not gone to the temple that morning, and Kushina and Minato went with their guards early in the day. Instead, Sasuke has stayed with Naruto. He can hear the boys in the lower halls, can see some of them tripping over the dunes towards town. 

He realizes that he had more freedom when he lived in the basements. 

Lanterns are lit and released into the sky. 

Music is loud and boisterous. 

There is dancing in the main halls, drinking and laughter, and Lord Minato and Kushina have joined them. Now, it is just Naruto and Sasuke, and they sit on the balcony in Naruto’s chambers and watch from afar. 

“I wish I could go,” Naruto mutters, lips sticky from mango and sweet rolls, “it looks like a lot of fun.” 

Sasuke stares below them, at all the lights, at all the gold, and decides to be reckless. 

“If you could attend,” he says, “what would you do first?” 

Naruto smiles, sad and wistful. 

“I’d want to dance,” Naruto answers, “in the streets. And try fish on sticks.” 

“Hn,” Sasuke agrees but Naruto keeps talking, encouraged. 

“And I’d see the lanterns lit. And go down to the beach and absolve my sins in the sea.” 

This is Uzushio tradition: the writing of your past sins and ill deeds, and feeding them to the sea to be cleansed. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto says and turns to him, “would you go?” 

Sasuke raises his eyebrow. 

“To town?” he asks.

Naruto nods. 

“What if we went?” Naruto presses, “Just for a bit.” 

“I could be exiled,” Sasuke points out, “maybe killed.” 

Naruto deflates, expression horrified. 

“You wouldn’t,” he argues, “I–”

“You can’t fight everything, idiot,” Sasuke sighs but he was doomed the moment Naruto looked hopeful, “lets go.” 

Naruto blinks, startled, “what?” 

Sasuke stands. 

“You want to dance? Let's go,” Sasuke tells him, “we’ll wear masks.” 

“But– but you could be–” 

“I could always be killed,” Sasuke interrupts, “are you coming or not?” 

Naruto’s jaw works, his mouth opening and closing. Eventually, he grins, sharp toothed and mischievous, and stands, matching Sasuke’s energy. 

“All right,” Naruto agrees, “let's do it.” 

+

Sasuke knows Kakashi is following them. 

He must not mind their sneaking off because he’s allowing it.

Sasuke had stolen two abandoned masks from a stand by the dunes, and Naruto had pulled his on without much preamble. It’s the mask of a fox, whiskered and appropriate, and Sasuke pulls his hawk facade over his nose carefully. 

Town is busy. It is loud. There are stands with roasting fish, with corn, with mango and figs. Naruto stays close to Sasuke’s side and it’s exhilarating, being both anonymous _and_ with Naruto like this. There are performers who breathe fire, performers who cry and laugh, and Naruto watches it all with eyes as round as the moon. 

Sasuke lets Naruto take his hand and drag him everywhere. 

He doesn’t think Naruto understands.

He’d follow him without a lead.

He’d know him by smell, by touch. He’d know him by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth.

He would know him blind, at the end of the world.

Sasuke lets Naruto lead him but he grips him just as tightly back. 

+

There’s a man handing out slips of paper and chalk on the beach. 

Naruto spends a long time writing his deeds down. 

“Are you waxing a sonnet?” Sasuke asks, kicking Naruto’s feet. 

“I have a lot of thoughts,” Naruto responds. 

“Could have fooled me,” Sasuke says and Naruto simply flicks his nose before standing, paper rolled tight in a ball. 

“What do you have to be absolved for?” Sasuke asks. 

Murder in the name of honor was not a sin. Surely Naruto would not think it is. 

“I can’t tell you,” Naruto says and lets the waves take his paper away. 

“Fine,” Sasuke says and raises his eyebrow when Naruto tries to see what he wrote. He holds it over Naruto’s head before tossing it into the sea. 

He didn’t write much. 

He only wrote one name. 

+

They sneak back into their rooms before the night is truly over. 

The festivities are still loud downstairs, still clambering in their drunken exuberance. Naruto hesitates at the foot of his bed and Sasuke watches him, tugging off his tunic and starting on the laces of his trousers. He stops when he sees Naruto’s look, that familiar determined tightness in his jaw. 

He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Naruto speaks, “it’s supposed to end with one.” 

“What are you muttering about?” Sasuke asks and Naruto turns to him, their eyes locking. 

“The Festival of Rebirth,” Naruto says, “it’s supposed to end with a kiss.” 

Sasuke thinks his heart has stopped. He swallows and turns away, busying himself with carefully folding his tunic. 

He tries to sound bored, disinterested, when he says, “of course Uzushio would have the most bizarre traditions–” 

Sasuke nearly swallows his tongue when he feels Naruto’s lips, dry and chaste, brush against his cheek. He feels fire race up his neck and he has Naruto pinned to the stone floor in the next breath. 

His vision is red. 

His heart is racing wildly. 

Naruto is staring at him, calm and compliant. 

“ _Why_ did you do that?” Sasuke hisses. 

“It’s tradition,” Naruto says. “To bring good fortune to those you care about.” 

“I don’t care about you,” Sasuke says, automatic and cruel. 

Naruto, the idiot, smiles. 

“That’s okay,” he says, “I care about you enough for two.” 

Sasuke feels choked. He feels strangled. He pushes up and away from Naruto almost violently. He feels–

He’s feeling too many things. 

“I’m going to train,” he says and makes his way to the door. 

“ _Now_?” Naruto calls after him, “Sasuke, wait–” 

The guards watch as Sasuke stomps down the hall. 

He can’t stop. 

He _can’t_. 

+

Sasuke expects Kakashi to show up and beat him into the ground. 

He wants him to. 

Kakashi doesn’t show. 

+

Sasuke drags himself back into the palace as the sun rises in the sky. 

He makes one stop on his way down the mountain. Kaguya’s temple is adorned, and will remain that way until the environments sweep it off. For now, it is covered in gold and gifts and jewels. Sasuke enters carefully, rubbing sand to clean his feet, he kneels. The stones feel warm. Sasuke isn’t sure what to make of it so he thinks nothing. He bows his head. 

“I should have come earlier,” he whispers, and hesitates. 

What does he say? This is not his God. But maybe she is now. 

“I have absolved myself of sin,” he whispers, “and I wish a good season for Uzushio.” 

A part of him expects Kaguya to rise from the ground and take his eyes. She does not. The wind still stirs, the seagulls still caw, and Sasuke rises when the sky is blue and he is long past due. Naruto will be awake by now. Sasuke shouldn’t have left the way he did. He shouldn’t have reacted at all. He should have done nothing, said nothing, and Naruto would have gone to bed and never mentioned it again. 

Now Sasuke’s made it into something. 

He’s shown too much again. 

He doesn’t know what it is– why, when he’s around Naruto, he can’t help but show the hidden parts of himself. He doesn’t know why Naruto makes him want to be vulnerable. It doesn’t feel like a bad thing around the other boy. It doesn’t feel weak. Sasuke tries not to think of Naruto’s kiss but his expression when Sasuke pinned him is now seared forever into Sasuke’s mind. He’ll have so many memories of Naruto it would not surprise Sasuke if he woke up one day and it’s all he was: made up of Naruto’s smiles and laughs and desire. 

Because that’s what was in Naruto’s eyes. 

Sasuke has seen the same heat in Karin’s. 

He’s seen the same heat in his father’s and Minato’s. 

And now he’s seen it in Naruto. And Naruto had been looking at _him_. 

The realization is almost debilitating. Sasuke tries not to think about it. He tries to turn his mind off. He tries to think of blood and pain and Itachi instead. That is somehow easier than love. Pain is easy. Pain he understands. Love? He has no idea what to do with love. He has no idea how to care for it. He thinks he is too rough, too jaded, to nurture love. To be good or deserving of it.

The guards accept him into the palace with hungover nods. The celebrations have gone well, it seems. No alarm bells were rung, no fights had broken out. It is like Uzushio has heaved a collective sigh of relief. Sasuke doesn’t feel relieved. He feels drained and tired. His feet are heavy and bare as he makes his way through the empty dining hall. For a heart-stopping moment he thinks he sees Suigetsu’s hair move behind a wall. The morning sun is gold and lights the stones. 

Sasuke is so tired it takes him a moment to realize that there are no guards outside of Naruto’s room. There is no one but himself in the hall. Dread builds faster than panic and Sasuke is opening the doors in a blink. They swing open and are held in place by the morning breeze. Naruto’s bed is made and empty. 

The alarming part is that it is made. 

“Naruto?” Sasuke calls even though he knows Naruto is not here. 

No one is. 

Sasuke blurs. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you want this to continue please comment, it really does keep me motivated and inspired 
> 
> come talk to me on my tumblr: dabblingwithdaisies.tumblr.com


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